<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Maybe Baby by beatlebuggies</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617375">Maybe Baby</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatlebuggies/pseuds/beatlebuggies'>beatlebuggies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles, The Beatles AU - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU Fanfic, Fanfic, Fluff, George Harrison - Freeform, John Lennon - Freeform, M/M, McLennon, Ringo Starr - Freeform, Smut, The Beatles - Freeform, The Beatles AU, paul mccartney - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:56:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatlebuggies/pseuds/beatlebuggies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage John and Paul working through their own awkward feelings for each other. This story is cute, dramatic, and may get a lil frisky;);) Not entirely sure where this is going but please join me for the ride!!</p><p>John gets Paul drunk for the first time...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Lennon/Paul McCartney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>20 Forthlin road was a modest place to live in the almost charming dreariness of Liverpool. The rusty brick stood tall over pruned hedges and a white picket fence, radiating mundanity. That was only expected in this part of town. Mundanity; an aspect of life that inevitably stuck in the minds of many teenage Liverpudlians in the late 50's.</p><p>Since this building was a long stretch of connecting addresses down the seemingly never-ending cobblestone street, the atmosphere was painfully repetitive. The only thing that differentiated 20 Forthlin road from the rest of the homes around it was a weathered wooden plaque reading 'McCartney', that hung humbly from the front door.</p><p>Inside, there wasn't much more to offer. The main floor contained a kitchen, lavatory, dining room, and a cozy living area with a wood fire and an awfully worn down piano. The house was quiet. It was almost as if no one was home. As if there wasn't a 17 year old boy lying red face beneath the sheets of his unmade bed, touching himself over the sound of Buddy Holly playing from his pawn shop record player.</p><p>This boy was James Paul McCartney, who was off school for the day and on to his post education ritual, as he liked to think of it. Paul held a wrinkled self drawn portrait of a naked woman between his sweaty fingers, gently massaging the paper with his thumb.</p><p>Not unlike most boys his age, Paul was stuck in an obsession with girls. The way they talk, the way they walk, the way their uniform skirts brush the skin at the back of their thighs as they climb the stairs. They're incredible, all of them. Paul had a rough go with the ladies in the earlier years of his life. Since he was a heavier set child, he was often teased by girls his age for his weight and baby face, starting him on a path of self doubt and insecurity. With the ever so giving gift of puberty, however, Paul's luck began to change as he grew taller, thinned out, and became quite the looker for his age. If the teen had as much confidence as he had beauty, he would be the heartthrob of Liverpool, and he sure as hell wouldn't have to rely on a half ass drawing of a woman's physique to keep him entertained.</p><p>The constant movement of Paul's left hand began to match the upbeat tempo of Peggy Sue that played over the pants and muffled groans of the boy and he dropped the paper to tightly clench the white sheet beneath him. Just as Paul began to move faster than the spinning vinyl that played so sweetly through his musty room, the door swung open along with a heart-sinkingly familiar voice.</p><p>"Rubbish can't take itself out, James, you've been off school for thirty damn min- Jesus!" The door immediately shut. The mortified teen stared blankly at where his father, bless his soul, just did the worst thing a father really <em>could</em> do; enter without a knock. Paul didn't move in the slightest, not being able to look away from the door that mocked him for being so careless, so bold. "You're fuckin' <em>wanking</em> me." He finally grumbled to himself, letting his head fall back onto the wooden headboard of his single bed. Paul was so clearly humiliated, he had no sense of what to do. What <em>could</em> he do? Talk to him? Sneak out without confrontation? Stay in his room? He looked down at his member, still slightly pulsing with the need for attention. Finish? The thought immediately nauseated him and he swung his legs over to sit up, choosing to ignore the pleading pressure of his manhood. ‘He's gonna wanna bloody talk to me about it.’ Paul thought to himself. ‘<em>He's gonna wanna sit me down and tell me it's natural and nothing to be embarrassed about. Oh fuck. Oh fuck! Fucking hell for fucks sake!</em>’</p><p>After several minutes of anxious pacing and bitter monologuing, Paul decided he needed a change of scenery. He managed to throw on a wool long sleeve and denim pants, comb his hair, and slip on his leather loafers before opening his door a crack and quietly investigating the scene outside the comfort of his bedroom.</p><p>His father, Jim, wasn't in sight or earshot so he ventured further, closing the door quietly behind him. Making as little noise as physically possible, Paul bounced down the stairs and made a sprint for the door after hearing footsteps heavy enough to be his dad walking into the room from the loo.</p><p>One step out the door and Paul was on his bicycle, racing past the monotony that is Forthlin road. An incident like this will typically be laughable in years to come, but in the mind of a 17 year old boy, it is simply the end of mankind and everything that is good in the world. So, with all this on mind, Paul couldn't believe he was already rolling up to the house of his best mate, John.</p><p>He stared at the structure in front of him. The protruding glass windows and off white stone of John's house gave it a somewhat more lavish vibe than Paul's, though it was far from upper class. Although his friend's life seemed ever so slightly more put together than his, Paul knew that that was not at all the case. Through the few years he knew John, he learned a lot about him and his life at home. Like Paul, John lost his mother, being forced to live with his aunt Mimi, whom he had little to no respect for. This living arrangement was an inevitable hazard for far too overly constant and almost violent disagreements.</p><p>Paul leaned his bike on a mailbox beside the front steps before proceeding to rap on the glass door in front of him. When a rather short blonde appeared in the narrow doorway, cocking a brow at Paul, he knew Mimi must not be home. The lass was still in her school uniform, though she was barefoot and only had a few buttons of her blouse done up.</p><p>"Aye, James is it? John's mate?" She smiled widely, only opening the door enough so Paul could see her, but not inside the house. She stood cross legged, leaning her hip heavily on the door frame. Paul internally rolled his eyes at the girl, who he was very sure knew exactly who he was and what he prefers to go by, and by her acting as if she didn't was nothing more than a petty power move.</p><p>"Claire, ‘ello!" He chimed, despite his current thoughts. "I prefer to go by me second name, actually. Paul will do." He rocked back on his heels, trying to hide the pure disappointment of not being able to unwind with his mate after an evening he'd like to repress rather than stand in a doorway having small talk with Claire Riley from Quarry Bank High School. ‘<em>Where is John anyway</em>?’</p><p>”Right, well.." She paused, as if Paul should take the unfinished sentence as an invitation to turn around and bike home. "John around?" Paul spat impatiently. "Is his house after all, aye?" He chuckled, his voice containing more of a catty twang than he'd hoped for.</p><p>The blonde puckered her lips, as if forcing herself to smile before taking a step back and widening the door. Paul knew John had this girl over to shag, and judging by the condition of her hair and clothes, he must've just missed it.</p><p>He didn't understand the older boys ways with the birds. Well he didn't <em>not </em>understand it. John was far from bad looking and always had a wonderful way with words. His wit and beautiful mind never seized to impress Paul, especially since he carries himself so differently than the poetic charmer he really is. But there's more to it. It's almost as if the girls can sense his smooth aura before he opens his mouth. He barely has to try, which he really doesn't.</p><p>Paul sheepishly stepped in, hating to interrupt anything that John and Claire were in the middle of, but not enough to stop himself. "Mimi ain't home?" He asked, trying to make conversation with the blonde. She pushed the door closed with a dainty palm before gracefully spinning on her heel to face the taller man. "His mother I assume? Hasn't been all day." Paul nodded, choosing not to correct her. ‘<em>Where the hell is he?</em>’ Paul looked down the corridor that displayed a wooden staircase at the end, leading to John's room. He slid his hands neatly in his back pockets as he brought his attention back to the older woman in front of him. She looked annoyed.</p><p>"He is here then?" Paul confirmed, getting frustrated with Claire's lazy lack of communication. The girl sighed and turned to a circular mirror to fix her makeup, speaking as if she was talking to herself rather than another person. "No, James. I just came here by myself because I fancy his house." She licked her index finger and began wiping away pieces of stray mascara that settled under her blue eyes.</p><p>Paul let out a stale chuckle at the sarcasm and watched her through the mirror. He was out of things to say to this girl so he let out a sigh of relief upon hearing the crack of another person's weight on the old stairs at the end of the hallway. John was wearing a white t-shirt and black pants, hugging his toned body perfectly. His hair was also a mess, but then again, when was it not. The simple image of his friend already eased Paul's quickly deteriorating mood, and he couldn't help but smile sweetly at John.</p><p>"Aye! To what do I owe the pleasure?" He winked at Paul, snaking an arm around the blonde's waist. Paul opened his mouth to lie about how he was biking in the area and wanted to show John a new song before he forgot it, but was cut off by the taller man.     "Jesus! You look like you biked here in a minute, Paulie. Trouble at home?" He snarked. Paul quietly blinked a few times before looking down at the darker material that surrounded his collar. He pulled the sweaty cotton off his chest and aired out his torso before letting out a nervous laugh. ‘<em>God, why does he pick up on everything</em>?’</p><p>"No, actually, I-" Paul was yet again cut off by his mate. "That's all good and well Paulie. Care for a drink? Mimi ain't home, y'know." Paul noticed that the question caused Claire to roll her head back and peer frustrated at the ground. "Well, I'm not trying to impose or anything." Paul's insecurity caused him to constantly think he was a burden, someone you only hung around because you're trying to be nice. "I was actually around to show you a song I was working on, but it can wait." Disappointment shrouded Paul's face as he took a step backward towards the door. </p><p> "Nonsense! Have a glass ye bird." John walked away from the girl, slapping Paul lightly on the shoulder. "Mimi should be home soon anyways, Claire. Maybe you should head on." Paul looked at his feet awkwardly, wanting this situation to be over. The blonde raised an eyebrow, smiling confused at John. "Ye just offered the boy a drink, though, aye? Since yer mother's gone." John didn't reply for a moment, staring down his pointed nose at Claire. "I can hide a glass, sweets, not a slut." He cackled before planting a wet kiss on her forehead.</p><p>Paul's eyes shot up, embracing himself for a bitter reaction. To his surprise, the lass rolled her eyes playfully and landed a soft punch on John's chest. "Always a charmer, Lennon." She smiled before making her way down the corridor to gather her things.</p><p>Paul immediately eased slightly at the missing presence of John's guest and smoothly slipped his hands out of his back pockets. "Slut, John? How'dya get away with that?" The taller man gave Paul an over exaggerated grin and fluttered his eyelashes as a response before adding, "Ah, Macca. The birds don't care how they're treated after you give them what they want, if ye know what I mean. And it doesn't hurt, of course, to be gifted with a physique such as my own."</p><p>Paul nodded. "Fair enough. I'm sure they also appreciate the humility." "They do indeed Paulie, they do indeed." John's arms lay folded across his chest as he grew a crooked smirk. It was surprising to Paul how he didn't seem to pay any mind to Claire overhearing their conversation, especially since she started making her way towards the boys, back to the entry of the house. She was now wearing her complete uniform, tie and all, with the buttons fully done up. "Bye for now Johnny. Til next time." She walked directly past Paul, flashing him a quick and catty glance. John clearly didn't notice, chiming, "It couldn't come soon enough, sexy girl."</p><p>The relationships that John had with these girls never cease to amaze the younger lad. The ratio of respect giving to respect receiving was always off. But John was right, the charm shines through. After the door was closed, John spun around, racing away from Paul.</p><p> "How bout that drink, aye?" He walked into the kitchen, immediately looking through the liquor cabinet. "Mimi won't be home til tonight. Just got tired of seeing Claire with her clothes on." Paul ambled behind his friend to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter beside the cabinet that John was still inspecting and began playing with his nails. "Ha. So what's got you so adamant to drink, anyway? It's four o'clock on a Thursday, y'know."</p><p> The older boy grabbed a bottle of whiskey, reading the label as if to make sure the drink contained alcohol. He spun off the cap and flicked it at Paul. "To hell with Thursdays!" He exclaimed before taking a generous swig of the drink. The aftertaste forced him to knot his thick brows and clear his throat. "It might get some creative juices flowing with that song of yers you were gonna show me."</p><p>Paul's eyes shot up to meet John's. He cocked his head to the side, confused, before remembering the excuse he gave earlier as to why he was stopping by. "Right, well.." He felt his cheeks begin to slowly burn as he recalled the earlier incident. Blushing was always Paul's most hated emotional giveaway, considering the burning pink that contrasted so vibrantly against his fair skin.</p><p>"..I actually just needed to get the hell out of my place, there's no song." John spun the bottle in his left hand, causing the liquid to form a miniaturized whirlpool. Taking another swig, he took a step towards Paul. "That so? What's gone to shit at the McCartney's?" Paul cursed his friend's curiosity and began running a mental list of ways to put what happened into the right words.</p><p>”Me dad," he began. "He, um, caught me.. y'know.." Paul trailed off, raising his eyebrows so the other boy would follow where he was going. John's loud cackle of a response startled Paul and made him fur his brows in response to the lack of sympathy he was receiving. "Ol' Jimmy caught ye wankin'?! HA! Did he take your pretty pictures?! Did he see your willy?!" John snapped his hand out to tickle Paul's crotch, causing him to recoil harshly and slap his fingers away.</p><p>"Piss off, Lennon! It's not funny!" The soft pink that framed Paul's cheeks burned into a deeper scarlet as he hugged his own chest defensively. "I was mortified."</p><p>John set down the bottle and took another step closer. "I'm bleeding teasing, Paul, christ!" With that, his facial expression suddenly shifted from entertained to sympathetic. "It really is nothing to get upset about though, Macca, you'll forget about it soon enough. And lucky for you, I've got just the thing!" John shoved the whiskey into Paul's chest. John didn't expect the younger boy to accept the offer, always finding him to be quite the tight ass with that sort of thing. So, when Paul said "What the hell," and took a large shot, John smiled wickedly.</p><p>‘<em>Excellent.’</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>in reference to the last chapter: i made john’s little girlfriend in this thing an original character (Claire) bc i don’t feel like making Cynthia a bitch :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paul and John have very contrasting personalities. John, who's older, taller, louder, and much more crude, supplies the dominance of the friendship. Nothing too drastic or controlling, it's just an unspoken, yet mutual understanding between the two. Paul, on the other hand, is soft spoken and sensitive. Though very different, the boys get along phenomenally and even started to grow their deeply meaningful and complex friendship the first day they met.</p><p>Because of their differences, however, their own ideas of fun are often asymmetrical, such as John's constant want to get piss drunk without an agenda. So, when Paul was sitting shirtless on John's bedroom floor, whiskey in hand, babbling on about god knows what, John was in bliss. His friend never drank with him and damn he's a funny drunk!</p><p>"It's just that it's <em>my</em> room, y'know?! If I was a da' meself, I'd fucking knock! Wouldn't you John?" Paul was projecting his voice way more than needed. "I mean- my door doesn't lock, aye? So why else would I bloody close it!"</p><p>John sat up from lying on his back in his single bed, rubbing his temples momentarily. "Look Paulie, we drink to forget, not to obsess, alright?" He grumbled. Paul cackled loudly in response. "Drink to forget, forget to drink. Ha!" He added, clapping. "That's rich, Johnny."</p><p>After talking out loud to no one really for the next few minutes, Paul stood from the ground and joined John on the bed, immediately playing with the hem of the knitted quilt that blankets the mattress. "You wanna do something? Let’s play." Without waiting for a response, Paul snatched the burgundy guitar that lay elegantly against John's nightstand. The dark haired boy flipped the instrument so he was playing left hand on a right handed guitar and began plucking the strings delicately.</p><p>John perked up, shifting his body to face the younger lad on the bed. "Write me a song! On the spot. I want an original McCartney tune about me." John's eyes burned with excitement as he eagerly waited for Paul to start.</p><p>Paul, without hesitation, began strumming a non existent chord at an obnoxious volume. "Oh Jooooooohn, you're an aaaaasssss! Oh Jooooooooohn, get to CLAAAA<em>ASSSSS</em>!"  In response, John threw his head back with a loud howl of amusement before clapping ecstatically to his friend.</p><p>"Absolutely brilliant! The story is very compelling and the tune?.." He kissed his fingers as if just served a gourmet Italian meal. "..incredible. I am beyond impressed. Now gimme a spin."</p><p>John ripped the guitar away from his friend, who was raising a skeptical eyebrow. ”Think that’s the first time you’ve said somethin’ nice about me writing!” Paul chuckled and watched as the auburn haired man scrambled to his feet. “I’ll complement you more, Paul, we you can do this.” He faced away from Paul and started shaking his ass to the beat of his tarnished playing before spinning around and moving his legs like Elvis does across the stage at his concerts. Paul hollered, waving his sweat soaked shirt over his head.</p><p>To the tune of Hound Dog, John sang, "Ye ain't nothin' but a wanker- gettin' caught by yer da'." Paul covered his face with his hands, unable to stop the laughter that felt so good filling the modest bedroom of his mate. As John went on with his rough parody, he grew sweaty and fatigued. So, after his grand finale of sliding on his knees and banging the guitar with everything he's got, John returned to accompany Paul on the bed.</p><p>"Not bad Lennon." Paul cooed, wiping his tearing eyes. His shirt was now disregarded on the floor and his hair disheveled. John studied his friend carefully, a tiny grin playing on the corners of his lips. Paul was always well kept and John loved that about him. But seeing him loud, carefree, and essentially a better reflection of himself was incredibly amusing.</p><p>"Not bad?! That was bloody genius! I'm up next in this world, baby! I'll have more followers than Adolph himself." John rambled, followed by a cheeky wink. His confidence spoke volumes, it always did. He lay the guitar lovingly against the wall beside his bed and leaned back into the mattress where he could feel the comforting body heat seeping from his mate.</p><p>"HEIL!" Paul shrieked, raising an arm to the ceiling. He brought his hand down over his face and inhaled dramatically. Letting out a slow breathe, he moved swiftly to his side, inches away from John's intense gaze, that of which would be intimidating if it weren't for the countless nights Paul's spent in this exact position for hours on end.</p><p>”You got me drunk, mate. Congratu-fucking-lations." Paul whispered. John smirked, propping his head up with a callus infested hand. "Maybe too drunk." The younger boy added while closing his eyes and feeling the unfamiliar sensation of a spinning room. Suddenly, as if being struck by an epiphany that would change mankind forever, John shot up off the bed. The quick movement made Paul widen his doe eyes and sit up in curiosity.</p><p>“I've got <em>just </em>the thing, mate." He spun around, making his way to the wooden wardrobe in the corner of his room. Tossing clothes and magazines carelessly on the floor, John started grumbling to himself about where the damn thing could be. "If it's more booze, John I don't know if I can-"</p><p>“It ain't fuckin' booze!"</p><p>Paul crossed his arms, angling a thin eyebrow at the other boy. He watched John tear apart the wardrobe for a few more seconds before retrieving a brown paper bag from one of his old shoes, smiling cynically to himself. He then tossed the bag onto Paul's exposed chest.</p><p>Paul pressed his lips tightly together as he unfolded the worn paper that was in somewhat of a wrinkly ball, a task that wouldn't be so bloody tedious about an hour and a half ago. Upon looking inside, Paul tilted his head up at John, his face twisting into a scowl.</p><p>"Ye really think a shittily hand rolled ciggy is gonna sober me up?" He was disappointed, tossing the bag back to John, who was doing all he could to hold back the laughter that forcefully crept up his throat. The auburn haired man caught the bag and immediately pitched it back to Paul.</p><p>“It ain't a fag, Macca, smell it." Puzzled, Paul reopened the bag and took a generous whiff before gasping and throwing the contents under John's bed. He didn't reply for a few moments before standing to his feet.</p><p>"You brought... <em>tea</em> in your house?! Why do you even have this?" Paul hissed in an unnecessary whisper. He paced nervously before turning to face his friend, who was giddy as all get out.</p><p>John pounced onto the bed on all fours before slinking an arm down to retrieve the bag that was so coldly thrown out by his friend. He reached in to reveal a white, lumpy stick of paper with a twisted end. "It's not gonna kill you, Paul. You're supposed to smoke it when you're drunk anyways, y'know. It counteracts the alcohol." He placed the joint neatly between his lips. "Try it."</p><p>Paul frowned, lifting a dainty hand to unconsciously nibble at the tender skin at the brim of his thumbnail. He couldn't believe John was offering him dope, it ruins lives! He promised himself he wouldn't get into drugs, especially since he wanted a straight head to get into the competitive and unforgiving industry of music. Does John really think he can be famous <em>and</em> a druggie?</p><p>"I don't think so, mate! You know Mimi would disown you if she saw that, right?" He tapped his foot impatiently. "And it's bad for you!" John rolled his eyes. He was hoping Paul would be too drunk to give a fuck, but the proposal seemed to snap him back to sobriety. "Listen, Paul. I want you to try it, you'll enjoy it! It awoke a part of my mind I didn't even know I had, okay? I- I wrote a song on it and everything!" He examined Paul's reaction, which stubbornly failed to ease up.</p><p>Paul rubbed his eyes in frustration, not sure how to argue with the stubborn power that is John Lennon. "You don't know how I'll react to it though, John. What if it's..." Paul trailed off. John waited for a conclusion to the sentence. "What if it's what?"</p><p>"I don't know!...Scary, maybe, I don't know."</p><p>Paul's voice was quiet with an almost desperate undertone, that of which John probably wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the slight tinge of guilt that resided unwantingly in his gut. John had no intentions of corrupting his friend by any means, but he liked to think he had a solid understanding of the substance and how little of a threat it was to either of their wellbeing. "Ye know I'm here, right? I wouldn't let it scare you."</p><p>Paul glanced up, meeting eyes with the other man. He liked the way those words sounded coming from his friend and he sat in silence once again, analyzing the situation. It's weed. Is that really that big a deal? Paul doesn't want John to think he's a puss, after all. And if it really does counteract alcohol...</p><p>"If, John- <em>if </em>I partake, you cannot tell anyone about it, alright? No one at school. This can't get back to my da' or teachers. I could be expelled, y'know, we both could."</p><p>John snickered, using his index and middle finger to extract the joint from his thin lips. "Jesus, McCartney ye sound like we're about to blunder a whore to death." He stood from the bed, gliding towards the other boy. Placing his hands neatly on either one of Paul's shoulders, John was close enough that his friend could smell the alcohol on his breathe as he did his best to soothe his needless disconcertment. "It'll be fine."</p><p>There was a brief moment where Paul thought he would do it. He thought about smiling to his friend and accepting the offer, he really did. But when Paul closed his eyes to feel the unsteadiness of his balance as the room began to dance around him once again, he took an uneasy step back and sat on the bed. "I-", Paul propped his head in his hands, looking shyly at his feet. "-I don't think I can. I'm sorry John."</p><p>The older boy closed his eyes and sighed. ’<em>Damn’</em>. "Oh c'mon Paulie, don't be such a puss-"</p><p>"I said NO!" Paul projected his voice far more than he intended, beginning to feel his face glowing with a familiar pink hue. Paul was never one to be aggressive, so it must have been the whiskey that caused him to feel a twang of anger at his stubborn mate. "I said no. I don't like the idea of it and you shouldn't either. In fact, I think you're fucked in the head for thinking this is okay!" He stood from the bed and stumbled ever so slightly before taking a step toward John, who did not expect this flip of emotion from Paul.</p><p>He was taken aback. "Fucked in the head? Right." John followed suit, taking a step forward to tighten the gap between the two. Having a strong and closed off defence network, John was extremely good at hiding when his feelings have been hurt. In this situation, however, his guards were down. He felt judged and looked down upon from his best friend and he did not enjoy the feeling in this particular setting. "Maybe ye should head home, y'know, wouldn't wanna corrupt you."</p><p>Paul said nothing, examining his friend. He could tell the comment was meant to come across as snarky and sarcastic, though he could sense the underlying hurt in his words. He dropped his eyes to trail down John's body, before lifting them up to make contact with the other man's intense stare once again. "I'd love to." He said under his breath, snatching his shirt off the unmade sheets and walking past John to the door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for the kudos and comments on my first story:)) I love to hear feedback on the work and whether or not people are enjoying it!!</p>
<p>So this chapter isn’t my favourite I kind of struggled with it a lot,,, I may post the next one later today so please stay tuned!!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An orange glow shone obnoxiously through a rather dusty window and into the room of John Lennon on a brisk and early Monday morning. John's bedroom was small and charming, holding the ability to easily become cluttered, though it was filled with items that perfectly displayed who he was as a person. The desk that fit snuggly beside his doorframe was filled with a large collection of rock n' roll, skiffle, and folk records, those of which are most likely stolen and organized in no specific order. Papers containing drawings and stories were scattered in random sections of the room, as well as various items of clothing. In the corner opposite from the door is a bed that silently held the very unconscious John under a thick quilt, blissfully unaware of his soon rude awakening.</p>
<p>As the shriek of his alarm clock jolted him into an unpleasant state of consciousness, he slammed his palm down to silence the ringing before bringing the knitted quilt over his face. "Jesus fucking christ." He muttered, his knees coming up to his chest. John squeezed his eyes tightly, becoming aware of what was about to happen and has been happening every morning for the past decade and a half.</p>
<p>The paint-chipped door of John's bedroom that remained shut for a good majority of the time unwelcomely swung open to reveal a posh women who looked like she had already been awake for hours, despite the dreaded alarm clock on John's nightstand that read 7:04 a.m. "Are you waiting for the world to end John? Because good news; it isn't and your classes still begin at 8." The woman held a dainty hand over the door handle as she examined the boy that she knew wasn't asleep, regardless of his composure.</p>
<p>The teen buried his face into his pillow in response. '<em>Fuck off</em>'. John loved Mimi, he really did. But, of course, the dynamic of their relationship was irregular and had the tendency to cause friction in the house. An issue John always had with his aunt, for instance, was the amount of times she managed to piss him off this early in the goddamn morning.</p>
<p>Without opening his eyes, he shifted his body from being face down in the pillow to having his head turned away from his Aunt. "If the world was ending, Mimi, I would've already been obligated to have eaten you by now." The woman clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes, remaining silent. The lack of a response caused John to peel his face off the cotton pillow and prop his head up with his forearm. "Y'know, to survive."</p>
<p>Mimi cocked an eyebrow and sucked her cheeks in, furthering the exposure of her dainty and rigid facial structure. She loathed John's "wit" since it was a constant reminder of the many toxic traits he shared with his mother. The last thing she needed was for him to follow the careless and sleazy lifestyle that she lived. "You didn't get that retched tongue from me, just remember that.", Mimi shot back before waiting impatiently for a response. Because John said nothing and simply rested his head once again on the ever so inviting pillow, she was forced to stomp towards the unmade bed and tug lightly on his ear. "Up then!", she chimed.</p>
<p>John swatted at her hand and sat up bitterly before waiting for her presence to be elsewhere. As the boy sluggishly began to walk around his bedroom in search for the contents of his school uniform, he unintentionally kicked something that skidded effortlessly across the hardwood. John squinted in puzzlement at the item that made contact with his foot just moments earlier before an unwarranted feeling of guilt began to ripple through his mentality. The crumpled paper bag sat deviantly beside the foot of his bedpost until he softly punted it under the mattress and into the void.</p>
<p>John hadn't seen or heard from Paul since Thursday when he got him drunk and basically begged him to smoke weed. Though he's tried it on a few separate occasions and knew the harmlessness of the substance, he couldn't seem to erase the memory of Paul's concern and discomfort when he brought up the proposal. '<em>So yer plan was to get Paulie hammered, tell him the tea would sober him up, then watch him blast off to a different fuckin' planet? Real classy John</em>.'</p>
<p>He almost had Paul, too. He was really considering it before he suddenly decided it wasn't a good idea and needed to bike home. '<em>Jesus! How'd the lad even get home?, he was shittered! Did he even.. make it home</em>?' John immediately decided he was being foolish and pushed the thought aside, picking up his blazer from a pile of laundry at the foot of his bed. '<em>I didn't even get him drunk- I mean- he didn't *have* to take the whisky! He's a grown ass man, he's 17 for christ sake</em>!'</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Quarry Bank High School was a typical institute in Liverpool. It's stone walls and overly particular staff were overwhelmingly uninviting, though the far more daunting aspect of the school for Paul McCartney was the student body. The teddy boys that owned the halls appeared to take pride in their obnoxiousness, that of which was absolutely adored by seemingly every bird in the building.</p>
<p>It was difficult for Paul to enjoy his time at school, considering he had very few friends. Paul's ability to interact with his peers took a sudden decline after the passing of his mom when he was 14. It got to the point where making friends was impossible and many of the ones he did have began to lose interest in his company through dark times.</p>
<p>George Harrison, an old and cherished companion walked alongside Paul in the crowded corridors of Quarry Bank on their way to the homeroom class that they shared. George understood Paul, being an introvert himself. He knew him before everything unravelled with his mom and was even there to comfort him and his brother when she died. His patience with Paul never seemed to run out, which payed off once he began to see the subtle yet relieving improvements in his friend's attitude and overall being.</p>
<p>“I just don't understand it, y'know? She keeps hangin' around her friends every day after school. Even on the weekends! It's like she doesn't want anythin' to do with me anymore." George's concern was very apparent to Paul, though he was finding it increasingly difficult to pay attention to a word that was coming out of his mate's mouth. "It's like every day m' huntin' the bloody bird down to ask her to come over or whatever and she just says no! She says no, she's already got plans then gives me a bloody kiss on the cheek n' she's gone!"</p>
<p>Paul looked towards the ground, intentionally keeping up the syncopation of their footsteps. He couldn't help but allow his mind to wander to the previous Thursday, him and John's last encounter. It didn't end horribly, per se, though he couldn't help but feel like there's air that needs to be cleared. He was embarrassed about the way he was acting under the influence and was rather annoyed John let him get to that point, especially since his father smelt the liquor on his breath and noticed that he was three sheets to the wind the moment he got home.</p>
<p>"Got nothin' to say? I should just go fuck m'self?" Paul shot his eyes up to make contact with the other boy, suddenly remembering he was, in fact, in the middle of a conversation. He blinked a few times before shaking his head as if to wake himself up. "Maybe she really is busy, though, aye?" He swivelled his head to the side, offering him a casual shrug. "That's bullocks and you know it. She's just sick of me and doesn't know how to cut me off.", George muttered, somewhat bothered by Paul's optimism.</p>
<p>Paul said nothing, not really knowing how to help in this situation, nor did he really care to give his two cents. Nearing their homeroom door, he let out a mental sigh of relief to be starting mathematics rather than listening to the in depth struggles of his friend's dating life. "Y'know what, 'M just gonna try not to worry about it, aye? Plenty of fish in the sea." George faked a grin, elbowing Paul lightly in the ribs as they entered their first class of the day.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Walking out of his homeroom period along with his other classmates, John was quickly welcomed by a petite blonde who spotted him across the hallway. "Mornin' Mr.", she cooed, slinking a delicate arm around the far less dainty one of John. "Thought you were gonna ring me this weekend, what happened?" Though her words radiated disappointment, the neatly done blue eyes that gazed up at him appeared to be much more loving, as well as the soft smile that formed on her darling face.</p>
<p>”Oh, sweet thing, you know I don't mean to disappoint." John peered down at Claire, not really giving her much of an answer at all. He was good at that. She rolled her head back before placing it momentarily on his sturdy shoulder. "I know you don't." She gave his arm a squeeze, giggling faintly. "Hey, me n' the girls are baggin' second period. Thought we'd go get somethin' to eat, y'know, you should join us."</p>
<p>John was never one to pass up on an opportunity to miss a class, so he brought up his hand to pull back the soft blonde locks of his female companion, adding, "Wouldn't miss out on that for the world." Besides, if he got to know this bird's friends, maybe he could have one of them over the next time Mimi was out. She flashed a well kept smile in response, bumping her hip lightly against John's.</p>
<p>Nearing the end of the corridor and turning a sharp corner, John's eyes managed to immediately find a thin boy whose back was turned to him, thick dark hair barely reaching the collar of his uniform. ‘<em>Paulie’. </em>To John's annoyance, he still walked alongside George. He was hoping that the next time he saw Paul, he would catch him alone.</p>
<p>As if being completely oblivious of the lass he had hanging off of him, John broke contact and began walking faster toward the boy. "Lennon!" Claire shouted, somewhat in shock. The sudden lack of their embrace startled her and she stopped in her tracks to watch John race down the hall, dodging various students and staff. He spun around on his heel to look back at the blonde. "I'll ring ye later!", was all he said before disappearing into the crowd. She scoffed and shook her head, turning away to begin the search for her group of friends in the overpopulated hallways of Quarry Bank.</p>
<p>"I don't get it at all, I'm not sure how that stuff comes so easily to you! I mean- there's fuckin' <em>letters</em> in there! Bullocks!" George was a very animated character, seeming to overdramatize every situation. Paul enjoyed this about his friend, though there were rare moments like this where his mind was clouded and George's company seemed almost overbearing. "It's not too bad, y'know. It's not like algebra is anythin' new, either. We've been learning it for the past-"</p>
<p>Paul's sentence was immediately cut off by a heavy pair of hands on the back of his neck and shoulders. The sudden contact jolted his alertness and immediately pricked a sensation of fear in his body. "Jesus!" He gasped, spinning around to reveal the cheeky smile from his dear friend John. "Ye wanker! I nearly shit meself!" Paul swatted lightly at the taller boy's torso with the back of his slender fingers. "If only!" John wrapped a brute arm around Paul's shoulders and started to walk again, this time picking up the pace.</p>
<p>George was left walking behind the pair and awkwardly cocked his head down to stare at his feet. Paul suddenly remembered the presence of his other friend and turned around to peer at him. He felt bad to be ditching him in the middle of a conversation, since he had a far deeper understanding of courtesy than John did. "Aye, I'll see ye around!" He shouted to his friend, receiving a straight mouthed grin and a nod from him in response.</p>
<p>When John and Paul made their way out the front doors, their giggling and joking around made both of them momentarily forget about the awkwardness of Thursday. Without instruction or discussion, they made their way to a section of the outside brick wall that was painted over by thick shade from an oak tree on the school's field. They sat on the grass, backs against brick while John pulled out a thin white box from his blazer's breast pocket. Passing Paul a cigarette, he lit his own and melted into the brick as the smooth and familiar sensation of nicotine entered his lungs.</p>
<p>Paul followed suit, accepting the flame to ignite his dart and took a drag. The brief moment of silence made Paul uncomfortable, bringing his mind back to the events that unfolded 4 days prior. He rubbed the insides of his feet together nervously as smoke poured out of his tiny mouth, thinking rapidly of what to say. To his surprise, as well as relief, John brought up the elephant in the room.</p>
<p>"Ye don't have to be embarrassed y'know. I threw up bloody everywhere the first time I got boozed." John spoke as if he was directing the sentence at no one in general, staring straight forward to examine the tree ahead of them. Paul furred his arched brows and shot his head to the left to face the auburn haired boy. "I'm not embarrassed!", he shot back defensively. "I've just never been drunk before! I think <em>you</em> should be embarrassed." He turned to look away, ashing his freshly lit cigarette on the grass beside his arse.</p>
<p>“Oh ye?" John lifted an eyebrow amusedly. "And why's that?" He watched as the boy continued to look off in another direction, still rubbing his shoes together in what seemed to be an awkward coping mechanism. "Because ye took advantage of me! For your amusement. And me 'da found out, by the way. He was mortified."</p>
<p>The cheeky smirk that played on John's lips quickly vanished at Paul's response. '<em>Took advantage</em>?!' He took another drag before blowing out the smoke and inhaling it through his nose, a fun little trick that his uncle had taught him prior to his death. "Look, Paulie, I don't know what ye think I was trying to do. I just wanted to have a good time with m'mate."</p>
<p>"And-" Paul quickly stopped the words from escaping his mouth before glancing around and lowering his voice. "-and <em>tea</em>, John, really? Why didn't you tell me you were getting into drugs?" The conversation taking place was making his defined cheekbones turn a light pink hue like usual. "Oh fuck off Paul. It's pot, not drugs. I think you've been listening too heavily into politics." John was not expecting this. He knew he shouldn't have gotten his friend plastered for the first time on a Thursday night and offered him a spliff, but he was half expecting him to be the one apologizing for how he was acting, considering drunk Paul was so out of character.</p>
<p>"It's unnecessary!", Paul finally turned to make eye contact with the other man, narrowing his own. "You'd get kicked out of school if word got out and ye know it! Mimi would disown-"</p>
<p>"Christ! Do you ever shut the hell up?!" John threw his dart aggressively and stood to his feet, brushing off the twigs and pieces of grass that clung to the arse of his trousers. The remark made Paul gaze upwardly, his cow eyes wide and hurt. "It's fuckin' good for me!", John continued in a fit of frustration. "I know ye have a perfect little fuckin' life and all I am is a corruption, but you can't talk to me like that." John's outburst made Paul silent, pursing his thin lips together.</p>
<p>"I-"</p>
<p>“Save it, Paulie. Ye should get to class." With that, John swiftly turned to walk in the exact opposite direction of his friend and off school property. Paul nibbled at the inside of his lip, growing more and more anxious as he watched John fuck off to do God knows what.</p>
<p>Despite the argument that had most certainly just ruined his whole day, he decided to listen to his mate and stood from his crouched position, making his way to the door of the institution.</p>
<p>"Oh! Well howdy James!" Paul winced at the voice, knowing exactly who it belonged to due to the name that was used to greet him. He said nothing, looking over at Claire and the small girl gang that stood alongside her. "Aren't ye gonna be late to class?" She chimed. "Just headed there now, actually." Paul remained expressionless, turning again to head for the door. Upon hearing her next words, however, he stopped abruptly, hoping to God he had misheard her.</p>
<p>"I told ye he was a fag, ladies." The lass giggled with her friends, watching Paul turn once again to face them and take a weary step forward. "Beg yer pardon?" He clenched a fist as he became aware of the loss of ethics behind socking a girl, despite the fictional scenario that played a million times in his head. "Well ye are, aren't ye? Ye like John!" Claire followed Paul's actions and took a step forwards, and a much more threatening one at that.</p>
<p><em>'Shut up shut up shut UP!</em>'' This was the last thing Paul needed right now. He had just gotten over the being teased stage of his life and this unfortunate encounter was immediately bringing up a series of repressed memories. As she spoke, she kept getting closer and lowering her voice so that only Paul could hear her.</p>
<p>”Just as I thought. You're not denying it!" Claire offered a wicked smirk to the boy. "Ye like him, don't ye?" She crept closer and closer until she was inches from his face and Paul staggered back. "Ye want him to.... <em>touch</em> you, don’t you? Ye want him to touch you like he touches me. Don't worry, James, we all know! It's nothing to be ashamed of."</p>
<p>Paul was at a loss for words. He didn't think anything would take his mind off the fight he just had with his best mate moments earlier, but congratu-fucking-lations, Claire, you managed! He continued to stager away from her, searching desperately for a response. "I- I don't-"</p>
<p>"Shhhhh." Claire brought a thin and pale finger to Paul's lips before he caught her wrist and lightly thrashed it away. "Yer secrets safe with us." She winked devilishly before taking a step back, closing the unconsenting closeness of their bodies. As if planned carefully to be on cue, the shrill shriek of the school's bell rang through the courtyard. "Now! Ye should get to class." With that, Claire turned around to join her friends who immediately took her arms in theirs and started down the cobblestone path away from Quarry Bank.</p>
<p>’<em>Fucking bitch’.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Since I didn’t post 2 chapters yesterday (like i said i would 😬) I’ll post the next chapter shortly after this one! Thanks again for the feedback!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paul burst open the door to his modest bedroom and launched himself onto the single bed, burying his face into the duvet as if isolating himself from the world. He flopped around in frustration multiple times before sitting up to perch himself on the edge of his bed, staring blankly into the thin mirror that stood across the room. Paul was a beautiful boy, that much he was sure of, but today his full eyelashes and pouty lips only mocked him. It had been two days since what he interpreted as a threat from Claire. He ruffled his hair, currently hating how it always seemed to fall neatly in place. <em>'You do look like a fuckin' faggot, McCartney.'</em></p>
<p>He grew to hate that his thoughts were so <em>‘John-this’ </em>and ‘<em>Claire-that’,</em> though he couldn’t begin to stop himself. <em>'Why the hell would she think I'm a queer,</em> anyways?’ He silently wondered,.<em> ‘Was she seriously *that* upset that John kicked her out of her house</em>?' Paul stoop up, beginning to pace around. This was all he's been doing the past two days. Spending time with no one, hiding away in his bedroom, only coming out to eat and attend his classes.</p>
<p>As if out of thin air, the boy suddenly remembered an item he had buried somewhere in his room; something that could possibly help him with his current issue. He had an idea, anyway. One that he wasn't quite sure of.</p>
<p>The wind hauntingly pushed against the window, howling throughout the otherwise silent room. Paul hopped to his cedar wardrobe and pulled open the bottom drawer, beginning to sift it through. He smiled with thin lips when his eyes came upon the red and the green tin reading; '<em>ROYAL CROWN HAIR </em><em>DRESSING</em>' and he reached for the container. The boy nodded and tossed the tin in the air, allowing it to spin a couple of times before swiftly seizing it in his grip once again. Holding the product in his left hand, Paul proceeded back to the mirror and sat cross legged on the nappy rug beneath him.</p>
<p>He opened the cap and looked indecisively at the clear, thick contents inside. This was unused hair gel that his brother Mike had gotten him a few Christmas's back. Paul was never one to care too much about his hair and let it fall where it pleased, though he is now considering this to be some kind of sign or stereotype for being gay or overly-feminine. All the toughest lads who got all the birds wore their hair in a slick up-do, allowing their locks to meet up in a messy and seemingly careless bundle at the front of their scalp.</p>
<p>Paul liked the Elvis hair- hell, he considered himself to be his biggest fan, or second biggest next to John. That being said, attempting to replicate this look never really crossed his mind, though he thought he should give it a shot.</p>
<p>Using his index and middle finger, Paul scooped a generous amount of the gel out of the tin. He stared at the glob on his fingers in the mirror, having absolutely no idea how to go about this. He began by applying a coin sized mass of gel to his sideburns, using a comb to slick them back. He continued for several minutes before being decently satisfied with the results. He looked older.</p>
<p>Paul grinned ever so slightly at his reflection before getting up to retrieve his guitar that was propped neatly against his nightstand. He popped his collar and began mimicking the iconic movements of Elvis, not unlike the way John did when they shared a bottle of whiskey. "Ye look damn good McCartney!" He sang to himself. To his own surprise, Paul liked the look. After several moments of debating, he decided to leave his quiet bedroom, down the stairs, and out the front door of 20 Forthlin Rd.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>John was in his bedroom, the back of his torso overtop his unmade sheets and feet propped against the wall. The comedic routine of Jerry Lewis that rang cheerfully from his radio set-up played over his loud and obnoxious cackles of amusement. When he wasn't writing songs or stories, this was John's way of unwinding, letting off steam. It was almost as if the ability to openly laugh aloud to himself was a form of meditation.</p>
<p>He liked being alone. It's not that he dreaded the company of others, per se. John truly did enjoy being surrounded by friends and better yet; girls. He did, however, need moments like this in order to turn off his brain and recharge. This is why he let out an exaggerated exhale of anguish at the sound of the displeasing pounding on his bedroom door.</p>
<p>Without an invitation to enter, the door swung ajar in a swift manner, though only being opened slightly to reveal half of his aunt's face. "Company John!", was the only information she felt needed to supply before stepping aside to display a very nervous looking Paul McCartney. He said nothing, raising an awkward hand to greet his friend, who looked far too comfortable to be pleased by company.</p>
<p>"Ah," John swung his legs around so he was fully laying atop his single bed. "Paul." John greeted, nodding his head. Paul took a step into the other boy's bedroom, looking around at the walls as if examining them for the first time. "John."</p>
<p>"Holy shit Macca!" John flipped off his radio that still played through his humble bedroom and stood to examine the never seen before up-do on Paul's head. "Since when are you a rocker, aye?" He brought up his hand to playfully tug at one of the loose strands that fell shyly on his pale forehead, immediately noticing how flushed Paul's cheeks became. "Damn Paulie, you use the whole fuckin' bottle? Yer head's crispy as hell."</p>
<p>John enjoyed embarrassing the younger lad. <em>Most</em> of the things he said was all in good fun and he always got a kick out of how quickly Paul's cheeks would giveaway his self-consciousness. John knew his mate had no real reason to be embarrassed. He actually looked quite good.</p>
<p>“Piss off Lennon." Paul swatted away the hand that violated his space before moving around John to sit on his bed. "I've never tried it before and I was... bored I guess, I dunno. I did it for a joke." He immediately hated that he tried something that was so clearly not him and was embarrassed that he thought John would like it. Who was he kidding! He looked ridiculous.</p>
<p>"Oh ease up Paulie." John joined the dark haired boy on the bed, bringing up his knees to sit cross legged and facing his friend. He examined the up-do, saying nothing for a few moments before falling on his back to reach a black pick comb that lay lazily on his nightstand. Paul watched as John held up the comb and smiled cheekily.</p>
<p>"What? I already combed it!" Paul exclaimed, folding his thin arms over his chest. John let his head roll back, allowing a deep and seemingly mocking laugh escape his lips. "But ye biked here, didn'tya?" John cocked an eyebrow as he spoke. "And it's windy as tits out there. It's all about the upkeep Macca." Avoiding consent, John flipped his position on the bed to be sitting on his knees and brought his own face inches away from the other lad's. He placed a firm hand on the back of Paul's neck and used the comb to rake back a section of his sideburn area, feeling Paul's body recoil slightly at the sensation of metal on skin.</p>
<p>"I suppose." Paul looked into John's eyes as he felt the boy slick back his edges, feeling somewhat uncomfortable by their closeness. This went on for a few moments before Paul decided he would be the one to bring up the elephant in the room this time. "I actually didn't come by to show you me hair." He did. "I wanted to, uh, apologize."</p>
<p>John stopped the movement of the comb. With his hand still gently coddling the other boy's neck, he moved his attention from his hair to his friend's hazel eyes. "Oh?" Was all he managed to say before picking up the rhythm of the brushing once again. Paul looked down at their legs, noticing their knees were touching and rubbing together as John moved his hand to flatten down certain sections of his hair.</p>
<p>"Ya.. I-" He paused for a moment to mindlessly nibble on the inside of his lip. "-I just feel bad about the way we left things off the other day. I don't mean to scold you." As Paul spoke, he thought about their last encounter. He knew he wasn't the only one that needed to apologize, though he didn't expect one from John in the slightest. He became used to this.</p>
<p>John finally finished with the combing and threw the tool carelessly onto his nightstand, where it bounced off the wood and onto the floor. "Now ye look stunning! Oh I could just eat you up." He teased, completely ignoring the apology from the other boy. Paul's brows knotted together and he brought his arms up to once again cross them neatly over his chest.</p>
<p>“Did ye hear me, mate?" Paul was frustrated, he wanted him to just accept his apology so they can have a clean slate. He hated John's repressive tendencies, never really wanting to talk about his feelings or issues. "I heard ye." John sighed and rubbed his eyes aggressively with the heels of his hands. "I just think it's unnecessary, y'know. There's a ton of shit we'll never see eye to eye about so let's just drop it, aye?" Paul frowned at his friends response. "But-"</p>
<p>"But nothing Paul! I don't wanna uproot yer straight-A ass lifestyle alright? I'm sorry I even brought it up in the first place." John snapped, receiving what started off as a hurt look from Paul, but quickly morphed into an expression of anger. "Ye act like I'm a bloody child! I'm 17 for christ sake!" Paul stood from his seated position on the bed, talking with his hands on his hips like an angry mother. He really didn't like that John was smoking weed but his arrogant behaviour was pissing him off. "As a matter of fact, <em>John</em>, I decided I wanted to try it."</p>
<p>John's mouth fell open, his face radiating disbelief. "That so?" He said, joining his friend in a standing position. Paul immediately wished he hadn't just said that. He didn't mean it at all. That was actually the last thing he wanted to do. He thought about going back on his words, playing it off as a joke. He then thought about Claire and how she assumed his sexuality, questioning in a split second if him being a goody-two-shoes helped her make her decision. He then realized that taking what he said back was out of the question. "It is."</p>
<p>John chuckled, not entirely sure what to make of this sudden change of heart from his friend. The hairstyle and random decision to light up was very, how should he put it, un-Paul. Part of him felt bad. Was Paul only doing this to prove a point? Another part of him remembered how bloody hilarious the boy was when he was drunk and imagined what it would be like to see him high off his ass. He quickly lost all feelings of guilt and grinned wickedly. "What're we waiting for then?"</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>John and Paul sat, hip to hip, against a glorious chestnut tree in a forest clearing just minutes from John's house. Their bicycles laid unheedingly in the grass, the ever so gently spinning spokes just beginning to come to a halt. John was carefully smoothing out the creases of the joint he held between two fingers as Paul watched, wide-eyed and in anticipation.</p>
<p><span class="Apple-converted-space">“</span>Ye sure about this Paulie? Last chance." John brought the spliff to his mouth and placed it between two lips. He looked over at the younger boy to study his composure. Paul was sitting on his arse with his knees brought together, gently rubbing the lobe of his ear. "Yeah yeah, just light the damned thing before I change m'mind."</p>
<p><span class="Apple-converted-space">Jo</span>hn shrugged, pulling the joint out of his mouth. He then retrieved the silver lighter from his pocket and flicked it alive like he's done hundreds of times before. Bringing the flame to the rolled up tip, he waited until it caught fire before slowly bringing it back up to rest in his mouth once again. John took a few drags before letting his head fall back against the rough bark. "Theeere she burns." He passed it to Paul, who held it in his dainty fingers like a cigarette. The dark haired boy didn't bring it to his mouth, however, keeping his attention on John.</p>
<p>"And you're sure I can't overdose on this?" He questioned, his face scrunching up at the overwhelming stench. "O-Or you'll stay with me if I get scared?" The desperation in Paul's voice caused John to sit up and look him in the eyes. "I'm here Paul." He said, calmly giving his knee a squeeze. The affirmation in John's voice was enough to momentarily settle Paul's worries, so he took a generous drag of the joint before immediately coughing for a good 15 seconds.</p>
<p>"Jesus <em>fuck</em>!" Paul wiped the tears that were brimming in his eyes as he continued trying to expel the foreign substance from his lungs. "What's in this shite, bleach?" He passed the spliff back to John who was chuckling at his friend's expected reaction. John took another two hits before handing it back to the other boy, who looked at the smoking roll in disgust. "It's from the ground, Paul."</p>
<p>The younger lad hesitated before once again breathing in the smoke of the doobie, this time holding it in his mouth for a few seconds, inhaling deeper, and finally blowing it out. To Paul's surprise, it was nothing like smoking a fag. The smoke seemed thicker and hotter, as if he could feel it burning the walls of his lungs from the inside out. The smell was bearable, though it instantly awakened memories of a prepubescent Paul helping George spray down his old cocker spaniel with a rubber garden hose after being tarnished by a skunk.</p>
<p>The alternating passing of the joint went on for a few more minutes until it was an unhittable roach and John flicked it into the abyss. "Now we wait." He said, nudging Paul playfully in the shoulder.</p>
<p>Paul clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, noticing how dry it began to feel. "So how-" He paused once again, bringing his elbow to his mouth and nose as he let out a few more stale coughs into the sleeve of his crew neck. "-how long will this take to, y'know, settle?"</p>
<p>John pondered that question for a few moments, tapping his index finger animatedly on his chin. He then rolled up his sleeve slightly to reveal an imaginary watch and nodded in understanding. "You should feel it in about, I don't know, 2 minutes ago?" Pulling his sleeve back down to hug his wrist, John rotated his head to study the other boy, who looked as if he were trying as hard as he possibly could to look calm and collected.</p>
<p>Knowing full well that being overly anxious before smoking pot could put any individual into a negative and paranoid mindset, John decided it was in both of their best interests to make Paul feel as comfortable as possible.</p>
<p>"<em>Maybe baby- I'll have youu-</em>" John began to sing a familiar tune from the crickets, a band that was mutually adored by both boys. The group's front, Buddy Holly, was an inspiration to the teens and a driving force in their musical interests. John paused, peering down his aquiline nose to inspect Paul's reaction. "We should learn this song, aye? Y'know, on the guitar. I'll bet it's a fun one."</p>
<p>Paul blinked a few times before nodding. He already had the whole song memorized and perfected. It was, in fact, a fun one, though he didn't find it overly necessary to mention that to John in this particular moment. Minutes had passed and Paul didn't feel a bloody thing aside from his tongue that rubbed against the roof of his mouth like sandpaper. He began to wonder if he had overthought the whole thing and the substance won't affect him nearly as much as he had originally expected. Upon coming to this realization, Paul began to feel almost disappointed.</p>
<p>“<em>Maybe baby- you'll be truuue</em>-" John continued his little song as Paul sat in silence, listening tenderly to the lyrics that escaped in effortless allurement from his mouth. Paul subconsciously zoned in on the rasp of John's voice, closing his eyes as he carefully breathed in every word. He loved when John sang. Though he'd never admit it to the other boy, it tended to calm Paul's nerves, satisfying his ears in a way he couldn't exactly explain. Time continued to pass as Paul returned his thoughts to whether or not the J was ever going to begin to do its 'magic'. The way John spontaneously decided to sing the entirety of a love song for no apparent reason lead Paul to believe he was already feeling it.</p>
<p>"<em>Ah-wello-wellow-well you are the one that makes me glad-</em>" As much as Paul didn't want to cut off the soothing serenade that was taking place, he decided he should say something before John got too stoned to comprehend what he was trying to tell him. Paul opened his mouth to mention that he doesn't think the dope is going to kick in for him, but as he turned his head to face the other boy, the atmosphere around him moved in delayed frames before his eyes, as if he was seeing the trees and ground slide across his vision in an almost blurred slow motion. His bottom jaw sunk deeper towards the ground as he blinked hard, allowing the scene around him to focus once again.</p>
<p>As if testing to confirm he wasn't seeing things, Paul jerked his head in the opposite direction, the leafy surroundings momentarily melding together to form a magnificent emerald mosaic. He exhaled dramatically and allowed his head to fall back against the rugged textured bark. John, seeming to pick up on Paul's behaviour, postponed the following lyrics to smirk corruptly and sit up in his laid back position.</p>
<p>“How'rye feelin'?" He chimed, attaching a soft chuckle to the end of his question. John was beginning to notice the warm and somewhat familiar sensations of being high himself. His eyes felt heavy in their sockets and the colours around him began to appear more vibrant and beautiful. He prayed to Jesus Christ himself that Paul was in a positive mindset and would enjoy these feelings with him.</p>
<p>"I'm-" Paul blinked heavily and slow, reopening his lids to look at the auburn haired boy. "-I think I'm feeling it John." He snaked his arms around his own body to slowly caress his shins, becoming aware of the alertness in his touch and the way the cotton fibres of his trousers felt on his fingertips.</p>
<p>John squinted his eyes, briefly holding his mouth in a gaping smile before erupting into a fit of laughter. "Oh you're definitely feelin' it mate!" He continued his chortling, not breaking eye contact with Paul, who gazed back at John in a vacant and almost confused expression. As Paul watched his friend, not entirely sure what he was finding so funny, he felt an unwarranted smile creep across his face before he began to crack up himself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wind seemed to have settled drastically as John laid in the grass with his head resting on Paul's slowly rising and falling stomach, both listening gently to the hypnotizing chirp of various bird species that danced and fluttered in the canopy above. While John was scoping the umbrella of twigs and branches that hung beautifully overhead, Paul rested on his back, silent and eyes closed.</p>
<p>Despite his lazy position, Paul was awake, now feeling the effects of the marijuana in full swing. It felt to him like he could sense the entirety of his eyeballs, floating mindlessly in his skull. The pleasure centres in Paul's brain were lit aflame, a feeling he's never <em>quite</em> experienced before. He exhaled smoothly, seemingly sinking inches into the plush forest floor.</p>
<p>The weight of John's head radiated warmth throughout his entire body and stirred an unexplainable sensation of comfort and satisfaction in Paul's stomach. The younger boy's mind was millions of miles away, his overwhelming amount of thoughts being brief and absolutely random. Because of the somewhat trance that Paul was in, his whole body flinched when John finally spoke.</p>
<p>“It's absolutely mad, isn't it?" John's fingers were neatly intertwined over his barrelled chest, index fingers mindlessly tapping on the opposing knuckle. "It is," Paul responded slowly. "I've never.. felt like this before."</p>
<p>John snickered softly, extending his arm to motion at the canopy above, that of which was letting in scattered rays of warm sun peek through to the forest floor. "I don't mean the dope, ye stoner. The trees." He brought his arm back down to rest on his chest once again. Paul opened his eyes, squinting at the intense brightness of his surroundings. "Ah right," he studied the overhang of branches. "The trees." He repeated, not knowing exactly what John was talking about.</p>
<p>"Right, mate?" John enthused. "Look at how bloody massive they are compared to us. I can't help but feel so small, y'know? Helpless." Paul widened his eyes, taking in John's words like he was listening to a sermon. He gazed at the magnificent trunks that seemed to extend forever towards the sky, getting lost in the concept.</p>
<p>"How'dya think they got here anyway?" Paul questioned, watching as the colours danced in an almost psychedelic pattern above him. "I don't bloody know. Some rat ate a few seeds and shit them all over the place?" The response from the other man caused Paul to giggle. "I mean-" He looked down his tiny nose at John, briefly marvelling at the defined rigidness of his side profile. "-I mean how does a seed, right? Like a tiny seed, no bigger than a cunt hair, okay? How does that seed grow into something that bloody <em>powerful</em>? Doesn't make a lick of sense, that."</p>
<p>John studied Paul's words carefully, mentally pondering the question. He was amused with his mate's enthusiasm, assuming that was a clear sign he was enjoying his trip. "That's an answer only God himself can give you, m’friend." He yawned, closing his eyes to once again become aware of the unexplainable comfort and pleasure that circulated through his blood stream. "So you believe in God, then?" Paul shot back. This question forced John's eyes open as he continued to consider Paul's curiosity.</p>
<p>John shifted in his position to lean on his side and face Paul, his head still resting on the other boy's thin torso. "I don't think a God would've taken our mums." He finally answered, his face expressionless. Paul's breathing hitched, totally taken aback by the bluntness in John's answer. He propped himself up with his elbows to get a better look at the other man. After a few moments hesitation, Paul decided he didn't really know how to respond, so he blinked a couple times and looked away awkwardly.</p>
<p>John noticed the discomfort of his mate and began to trace a thin finger up and down the side of his torso. Paul twitched slightly and nibbled at the inside of his lip as a pleasant warmth tingled throughout his thighs and lower stomach in response. He was growing slightly anxious, being familiar with this particular sensation and knowing the physical effect it could have on him if said sensation continued. '<em>Why in the hot *fuck* would I get a hard-on while my very male friend is talking about our very dead mothers?'</em></p>
<p>"But that doesn't mean they're not still with us." John continued. "I like to think that Julia and Mary are up there, don't you?" Paul frowned at the other boy. "Isn't that kinda.. contradictory?" He said, trying to ignore the feeling building in his groin and excuse it as just another side effect of the pot. "Y'know, saying that there's no 'God' 'n all but our mums are in heav-."</p>
<p>"Paul?"</p>
<p>"Aye?"</p>
<p>"Fuck off, aright?"</p>
<p>Paul just giggled lightly and said a quick sorry before the air grew thick and silent, allowing the boys to lose themselves in the eyes of the other. John then brought his palm to rest on the ground on the other side of Paul's torso. The dark haired boy widened his cow eyes and slightly parted his lips as John moved his shoulders forward to bring their faces inches apart. "They're still with us. I just know it." Was all he said, eyes burning into Paul's. The latter said nothing, though he held the gaze and continued to nibble on his lip.</p>
<p>The closeness was intense, yet comforting. As Paul peered deeply into the glossy eyes of his male companion, he began to feel slightly insecure for reasons he wasn't exactly sure of, though he didn't dare move.</p>
<p>“Your girlfriend's a cunt." he suddenly blurted. John couldn't help but let out a confused laugh as he furred a brow. "What?"</p>
<p>"Claire. She's nasty."</p>
<p>John blinked a few times, still hovering over Paul. "She's.. not my girlfriend. What makes you say that anyways?" He grew increasingly interested in the other's statement and studied Paul's face for any clues as to what he could possibly be going on about.</p>
<p>"Dunno."</p>
<p>"Bullocks."</p>
<p>Paul bit at the inside of his cheek, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. Why did he have to bring her up? It was as if he noticed he was saying it after it was already said, a topic he was just <em>dying </em>to explain to his friend. He couldn't, of course. What if he told him about Claire accusing him of liking John and he got weirded out? No.</p>
<p>"Jus' doesn't seem like she's overly fond of me is all." John examined Paul's face further, scraping in every detail of his prominent eye and smile lines in attempt to bring true meaning to his words. "Did she <em>do</em> something to you?"</p>
<p>Paul chuckled and looked away as if that was the most absurd question he had ever been asked. "No! She just- I don't know, I'm being silly." His face and ears began to burn and turn his skin pink as he silently cursed his blood cells for disobeying him once again. John didn't buy into it and scooted in impossibly closer. "Ye jealous of her or somethin'?" He teased, though he was genuinely considering the possibility.</p>
<p>"Jealous?" Paul scrunched up his nose and frowned. "Of what, exactly?"</p>
<p>John shrugged in response. He took pride in his ability to read Paul like a book. If he was being honest, the other boy never made it all that difficult. He was a bad liar and even worse at coming off as nonchalant when there was something on his mind. The blushing, the scrunching of his nose; it all seemed as though he had something he needed to get off his chest but didn't quite know how. He then remembered Paul's change in hairstyle. What did it all mean?</p>
<p>"Dunno. Maybe, just <em>maybe</em> you feel threatened by her, ever think of that? Is she taking away your beloved Johnny?" John ragged on, pouting his lip and batting his eyelashes. Paul scoffed and lightly brushed his hand over John's face. "In yer dreams, Lennon."</p>
<p>John smiled wickedly and leaned in even closer, their noses basically brushing together. "You may or may not be right about that." The words caused Paul's eyes to expand and dart around John's face in panic. If he didn't know any better, he thought John might <em>kiss</em> him. That's just who he is, of course. He always got his kicks out of making Paul squirm. Paul knew John wasn't daft- how could he be? He was just using a tactic of intimidation to get Paul to spill his guts. There was no way he-</p>
<p>Suddenly; lips on lips. Paul jerked his head back, feeling as though his eyes would pop out of their sockets and onto the forest floor beneath them. John's eyes were closed peacefully, as if kissing Paul was a normal act of endearment, like saying hello or goodbye. At the break of contact, however, John peeled his eyes open and looked down at Paul, whose face was a deeper red then he's ever seen.</p>
<p>"Uhm-" Paul squeaked and cleared his throat, scooting back slightly from the body heat of the other man. The kiss, though brief and barely existent, shot electric waves throughout his body and unfortunately contributed to the pool of heat and pleasure that resided in his groin. He was beyond confused. Was John really that high? Don't get him wrong, Paul was baked like a fucking cake, but he still felt as though he could control his actions. A part of him wanted to kiss him back, but a voice in his head refrained him from doing so. It whispered to Paul that the kiss was a test, a sick joke John was playing to get him to admit he was fond of him.</p>
<p>“Sorry." John croaked, not moving his position of holding himself over top of Paul. "For what? It's aright!" Paul quickly said in weak attempt to pretend nothing happened as he slid back on the grass and stood. "Listen, uh," Paul scratched the back of his head, refusing to meet eyes with the other lad. "I should get going, y'know, I'm starting to get hungry."</p>
<p>John stood as well, nodding. "Sure, mate. I'll bike you home."</p>
<p>“No!" Paul turned to finally lock eyes with John, whose face briefly clouded with a look of betrayal. Paul cursed himself for being so awkward and tried to mend the situation. "I mean.. it's fine. That's out of the way for you." He grabbed his bike and started to walk with it as far away from the forest clearing as he could. "Yeah, aright, no problem." John snaked a hand into his back pocket to retrieve a cigarette. "I'll see ya later, then?" He called to Paul who was already a good distance away and shifted his weight anxiously between his two feet. Paul stopped in his tracks to glance at the other man before putting his head down and continuing on his mission. "Uh, yeah! See ya."</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>'<em>You idiot. You absolute fucking IDIOT! You're one fucked up fella, you know that?</em>' John was biking home at an exceptional speed, in silent war against his own thoughts. '<em>You thought you knew Paul so well, didn't ye? What a laugh!</em>' He turned a corner and closed his eyes, taking in the breeze that tickled across his scowling features. From what John gathered, it seemed as though Paul was developing somewhat of a crush on him. Flashes of Paul's face twisted in horror upon being kissed by John, however, played in the boy's head and caused him to grit his teeth. He was so wrong. So far off from the truth, it hurt to think about. '<em>Of course Paul's not into ye, ye git! You're so bloody stupid. You're STUPID! Fuck!'</em></p>
<p>John knew from the moment he met Paul that he fancied him. At first, he excused it as him just being wowed by the boy's musical abilities, not unlike the way he felt about Elvis. Nothing more. When John began to get to know the lad better, however, he would constantly find himself gawking at his delicate beauty, moving the excuse for fancying him to his feminine-like features.</p>
<p>It took John some time to accept that he was, in fact, attracted to Paul in the same way he was to birds, if not more so. He grew to love Paul's talent, beauty, and cheeky charisma. There was no way in hell John would've expected he'd make a move, though. Paul was straighter than a cane and he knew it! He sighed as he considered the possibility that his own lustful selfishness had ruined their friendship for good.</p>
<p>There was just something about the lad's recent behaviour that lead John to believe the feelings were mutual. The change in hair and sudden desire to smoke seemed like attempts to impress him, and the mention of his dislike towards Claire only made his suspicions stronger and seem almost factual. Then why would he react the way he did? There was just a piece of the puzzle that didn't seem to fit quite in place.</p>
<p>As John ambled up the wooden steps to his Mendips home, he blinked dramatically as if to rid his eyes of the faint redness that currently resided in them. He made his way to his quiet room and collapsed onto his bed, before bringing his knees to his chest. After ten or so minutes of lying there motionless, wallowing in his own self-pity, John reached for his stringed acoustic and picked away at a familiar melody.</p>
<p><em>"It's funny, honey, you don't care.</em>." He sang softly into the silence of his bedroom. <em>"You never listen to my prayers</em>.."</p>
<p>"<em>Maybe baby.. you will love me someday..</em>"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THANK U ALL again and always for the kudos and comments!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"He <em>kissed</em> you?!" George struggled to keep his voice in a whisper as he stretched his neck over the small diner table him and Paul shared. "Uhm, ya. Yes, he did."</p>
<p>Paul dipped a french fry in a side of gravy, watching himself stir the liquid to avoid making eye contact with his friend. It had been a week since the violation from John. A whole week they managed to avoid each other in the halls at school and neither of them made the effort to call the other; that of which is especially strange, considering that happens on a <em>normal</em> day to day basis. It was a mess, to say the least.</p>
<p>"I think I'll be sick. That's.. that's assault y'know! Boy, if <em>I </em>were the one getting snogged by a bloke, I'd knock 'im one! Right in the nose. POP!" George shot out his arm to punch the air, before resting his elbows on the table and coddling his head in the palm of his hands. Upon receiving no response from Paul, George cleared his throat. "Anyroad... How'd ye react? Ye scream bloody murder?"</p>
<p>Paul took in a heavy breathe and popped the soaking fry into his mouth, chewing slowly as if to postpone his answer. "No, actually, I just said I had to go. Told 'im I was hungry." That answer seemed to displease George, who let his eyebrows crease together in a <em>whatthefuck</em>-like expression. "Ye didn't hit 'im? O-or tell him off at <em>least</em>?!"</p>
<p>Paul huffed and looked down, allowing himself to play with another fry to avoid the intense and judgemental stare from his mate. "No, Geo, I didn't. I think he did it t'be funny, anyways. He's strange like that, y'know?" George only shook his head in further disapproval. "Nothin' funny about kissin' fellas, I'll tell ye that much."</p>
<p>Paul pursed his lips and looked up at George, if only for a moment. "He's just a little different, aright?" He snapped. "I wouldn't expect ye t'get it." George raised a skeptical eyebrow at the other lad's reply. "Defendin' 'im now are we? What, Paul, do ye like this fella? I mean- of course you do, so do I! But do ye.. <em>like</em> 'im?"</p>
<p>Paul's eyes shot up, wondering where the hell George got that idea from. He opened his mouth to protest, though he couldn't quite bring himself to deny the accusation. The brief silence caused George to slap his open palms on the table and in turn made Paul jump at the movement. "You bloody do, Paul, ye git! Why didn't ye tell me?!"</p>
<p>"Shut up!" Paul hissed and looked around to make sure there were no curious listeners. He leaned over the table to bring his face closer to his friend's and he lowered his voice. "I don't know, okay? I've been feeling.. <em>weird</em> lately, y'know? Not like meself." George nodded, desperately wanting Paul to explain himself further. '<em>Well that explains the hairdo. Has John written all over it, that</em>.' He thought to himself, though not bothering to embarrass Paul further. "I think I might, maybe? But you can't tell anyone Geo I swear to Christ-"</p>
<p>"No! Course not!" George allowed his elbows to rest on the table once again, bringing his interlaced fingers to cover his mouth as if in thought. "So... yer gay?" He asked bluntly. Paul let out a nervous chuckle and shook his head. "Wha- no!" He nibbled on his lip momentarily as George started back, cocking an eyebrow. "...Well, I mean, I don't know. I still like birds, obviously! I think it just might be John."</p>
<p>George nodded along, trying his best to accept that information as if it made any sense to him at all. He loved Paul. There wasn't a thing in the world he wouldn't do for him. This, however, was the last thing he would've expected from his friend and he had a hard time wrapping his head around the concept. "Okay.. so why'd ye leave? Y'know, when he kissed you?"</p>
<p>Paul blinked a few times before narrowing his eyes. "Have ye been listenin'?! He doesn't <em>like</em> me it was just a sick joke! I just had to get out of there, mate, I don’t know." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, looking much like a little boy who was just denied an extra biscuit or something. George scoffed. "Do ye hear yerself? No one just <em>kisses</em> someone for a joke! Not even the whimsical John Lennon." He said, shaking his hands for effect.</p>
<p>Paul just shook his head and picked up another fry. "Ye just don't get it, Geo. Ye don't know 'im like I do." His words forced an eye roll out of George. He snatched a fry off of Paul's plate, only to flick it onto his chest.</p>
<p>"Hey! What's yer pro-"</p>
<p>"Are ye seriously <em>that</em> dense, Paul? I know yer stubborn but Christ! Ye can't just sit around pityin' yerself when ye know John's doin' the same! I mean, I don't <em>love</em> the idea of you two but you need a voice of reason for chrissakes."</p>
<p>Paul stared blankly at George, puffing out his bottom lip in a pout. There was a brief moment of silence between the two as Paul began to genuinely consider his mate's point. Yes, he did have a point.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Claire laid in the nude on her side, her light pink cotton sheets resting flatteringly over her chest. She hummed softly as she ran a delicate finger up and down John's exposed back. Grinning like a schoolgirl, she gawked at the naked physique of the boy as he lay motionless under her covers.</p>
<p>She was just beginning to give up on John when she suspected he had a thing for that younger boy, a concept that made her want to wretch just from thinking about. To her good fortune, he seemed to want to be around her much more after she subliminally let Paul know he should back off. She wasn't quite sure how it happened of course, though she liked to think she was the driving force.</p>
<p>Claire leaned forward and began planting delicate kisses on John's shoulder, to which he responded with a sleepy hum. "Awake?" She cooed, bringing a hand up to rake through the auburn hair that sat just above the top of his neck. "Am now." John opened his eyes slowly to check the clock on her nightstand. With a great deal of squinting and straining, he was able to make it out: 5:14 p.m.</p>
<p>
  <em>'Christ, I've been asleep for an hour and a half?'</em>
</p>
<p>"Yer folks still out?" he asked, flipping to sit on his arse and scanning the area for his trousers. Claire giggled in reply with a delicate nod of the head. "Yep. We've got all night still." She whispered and brought an index finger up to brush his nose ever so gently.</p>
<p>John looked almost cross eyed at the nail of her finger, then focused back on the lass herself when she retrieved her hand. '<em>All night?</em>' John frowned at the thought, suddenly noticing his absence of desire to stay at Claire's house a minute longer. It was true, John had been seeing much more of the girl since the last time he was with Paul. She was being used as a distraction from that awkward encounter, though one of John's 'back-of-the-head' type thoughts screamed to him that he was really just trying to move on from his homosexual tendencies. '<em>Bisexual tendencies</em>.' John mentally corrected himself, then immediately shook his head to get rid of the thought all together.</p>
<p>"Dunno. 'M probably gonna scram, y'know, Mimi's waitin'." He said, getting up off the bed to slip on the pants of his school uniform. Claire's lips parted slightly as she angled an annoyed eyebrow upwards. "Thought ye said you were stayin' for the evenin'."</p>
<p>"Uh, yeah, it's the evenin' now, innit?"</p>
<p>Claire sat up and crossed her arms, not allowing the sheets to expose her chest. There was a jealous side of her that made her almost positive John was lying. Though she suspected he was going off to his little friend’s house or something, she didn't want to accuse him without any evidence. There's a large possibility John would get defensive and start an unnecessary fight, whether she was right or not.</p>
<p>"Well.. I had a good time tonight." She crawled up over the bed, allowing the sheets to reveal her naked chest and white panties, reaching to give John's hand a squeeze. "Ye wanna do somethin' tomorrow?"</p>
<p>John scanned the entirety of the female once again, marvelling momentarily at the way her undergarments hugged her thin waist and he squeezed her hand back. He briefly lost himself in the physique of the other, so he cleared his throat once their eyes met as he remembered she was waiting for an answer to a question.</p>
<p>"Can't. Sorry luv." He broke his hand from her embrace and bent over to check under the bed for the top half of his uniform and jacket. Claire huffed, growing increasingly frustrated.</p>
<p>"Why? Who're ye seein'?" She prodded, not being able to hold back. John poked his head up from the side of her mattress, now beginning to dress himself in his full attire. He raised a dubious eyebrow as he completed a half ass knotting of his uniform tie. "What'ye mean?" He couldn't help but chuckle at the crazy flip in the girl's demeanour.</p>
<p>"I mean-" Claire darted her eyes over and around John's mocking smirk, pursing her lips into a tight frown. "I mean who're ye seein'! What could ye possibly be doing all the times you leave me house early or ignore me calls!" She gritted her teeth together, hating the way she was beginning to sound like a crazy ex wife or something. She just wanted John to confide in her about Paul, if that was still going on.</p>
<p>John finished off his outfit by slipping into his light spring jacket as he scoffed at Claire's behaviour. "We're not married, y'know." Was all he said, not bringing himself to feel bad about leaving with that. He was sick of her, to say the least. He knew she was head over heels, which (though he wouldn't like to admit) is the exact reason he's been paying her these frequent visits. It was too easy, really. The downside to this, on the other hand, is the whole 'feeding strays' ideology that really comes into play in this scenario. So, he had to be tough to avoid leading the lass on, no acting like a boyfriend or anything.</p>
<p>Claire looked like she could cry as her mind raced for a response, anything, before John left the room. "Wait, John! I-I'll give ye a lift home. I feel bad for lettin' ya sleep while Mimi's waitin'." She hopped off the bed to throw on a matching white brazier, then a burnt orange floral dress that came down to just above her knees. John leaned on the door frame, watching quizzically as she got dressed. "Ye got yer licence?"</p>
<p>"Don't be silly! Wouldn't offer if I didn't, aye? Daddy left the car here n' everythin'. C'mon, it'll be way quicker for you." Claire <em>did</em> know the basic fundamentals of driving. The part about her having her license, however, may have been a slight exaggeration. Nevertheless, she was confident in her ability to get John home safely, since her father is a policeman and taught all his children to drive early in their lives for "emergency purposes", whatever that means.</p>
<p>After a prolonged conversation consisting of John refusing the offer and Claire insisting, they were climbing into the ivory coloured Chevrolet that parked unheedingly in her driveway. The ride was rather uncomfortable, whether that be due to the lack of conversation, or the various instances where Claire stalled the car and needed John to point out what she was doing incorrectly. Either way, John was grateful to finally be pulling up to his home.</p>
<p>But as they neared the building, John's heart seemed to have completely stopped beating in his chest at the sight of a young boy sitting cross-legged on the porch step in front of the hedges, calmly smoking a cigarette.</p>
<p>Claire twisted her face into a confused expression and looked over at John. "What's.. James doin' here? Didn't yer aunt want ye home?" John shrugged, examining the boy who just noticed their arrival. "Dunno, honest.. n' it's Paul." He remained in the shotgun seat as he watched Paul raise a timid hand to greet the pair, though he looked like he was about to completely eat shit from a fatal anxiety attack or something of the sorts. "I'll uhh.. see ye later, aright?" John tapped his knuckle on the dash as he opened the door and freed himself from the vehicle. "Yeah, yeah. I'll see y-"</p>
<p><em>Thwump</em>. The door slammed shut as Claire sat, repressing a scream from creeping up her throat. She let out a shaky breath as she watched John make his way over to the other boy, who was now standing and tossing his ciggy butt onto the pavement beneath them.</p>
<p>Putting the car in drive, Claire honked and waved at the pair as she passed them, hoping Paul would receive the meaning behind her actions. That being: '<em>I'm not waving hello, James. I’m simply letting you know that I hate you with every inch of my being and then some.</em>'The comical gulp he took as he lifted a sheepish hand to wave back confirmed that, though he may not have understood the message in its entirety, he seemed to have gotten the gist.</p>
<p>Watching the Chevy drive off into the distance, Paul lowered his hand and turned to face his friend, who was leaning against the gate beside the hedges. "So what brings ye? Yer da' catch ye wankin' again?" John asked smugly, sliding his hands into his jacket pockets. Paul shuffled in his position, chuckling towards his feet. "No, I- I was just bored, y'know? Haven't seen ye in a while." John nodded and clicked his tongue. "So how long were ye sittin' there then?" He tilted his head to motion towards the steps leading up to the gate.</p>
<p>Paul scratched at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, what? Like 5.. 10 minutes?" He shrugged, though John could tell by the way he said it that it was much longer than that. The number of butts scattered along the steps was also a fairly helpful indicator. "Mimi's out too, I reckon? No one came to the door."</p>
<p>John squinted at the boy who was strangely acting quite sweet, despite their last encounter. He allowed himself to take a moment to compose a response in his head. "She ain't." Was all he ended up coming up with.</p>
<p>"Oh."</p>
<p>"Yep."</p>
<p>Paul rocked back on his heels and sucked in his lips as he waited awkwardly to be let inside. John did nothing, however, remaining leaned up against the gate door, eyes burning into Paul's. "Goin' in, then? Or're we jus' gonna stand on the street?” Paul finally asked, not being able to take the silence for another moment.</p>
<p>John just nodded slowly and turned to unlock the gate. As they entered the house, a slight panic resided in Paul's gut upon realizing he didn't know what was going to come next. After his heart-to-heart with George, he was gaining confidence in talking out last week's situation with John. Now that he was in the house of the other man, however, that confidence withered into angst and he felt like the same idiot boy that got kissed and ran away in sheer embarrassment. He also obviously couldn't help but notice John was with Claire when he arrived, she made that rather clear, which threw him off his game quite a bit.</p>
<p>"Cuppa?" John asked as they made their way into the kitchen. "Uh, yeah. Please." Paul said quietly and leaned his lower back against the counter. He watched as John began to boil some water and lightly chewed on the nail of his ring finger. His mind was a clutter of words and phrases; a mural of possible ways to bring up what was on his mind. To his dismay, nothing Paul could think of felt like the right thing to say in that moment, so he just continued to watch the water grow hotter and the air thicker until the kettle finally shrieked.</p>
<p>John had his back to Paul, not breathing a word as he prepared the tea. Once he was satisfied with the steeping and sugar dispersement, he placed the mugs on a silver tray and walked them past Paul into his living area. The younger lad followed John coyly through the door and sat next to him on the sofa across from Mimi's radio set up, bringing a leg up to cross over the other. "Thanks." He finally said, lifting his mug slightly.</p>
<p>The older boy stared gravely at Paul, not sure what to make of this visit quite yet. He once again did his best to read Paul for notions of why he came, what he was thinking, and what his intentions were. No luck. John sipped at his tea, waiting for the other boy to begin telling him whatever it is he wanted to get off his chest. Though he looked calm and collected, John had no idea what to expect and that scared him shitless. The way Paul seemed so closed off and awkward made him assume he came here with intentions to tell him off.</p>
<p>Paul being the stubborn git he is, refrained from initiating the conversation and simply waited with him, though he eventually grew uncomfortable again with the silence and sat up slightly in his chair to speak.</p>
<p>"The tea's quite good. What is it, earl gr-"</p>
<p>"Jus' say it already."</p>
<p>"Uh, what?"</p>
<p>"Y'know. Jus' get it over with." John stared deadpan at the other boy, who furred his brows in an innocently confused manner. Paul was taken aback, not anticipating John's refusal to beat around the bush, so he couldn't stop himself from combatting the comment with his most common defence mechanism; denial. "I'd love to, John, if I knew what you were referrin' to."</p>
<p>John gave his eyes a roll and and sneered. "Don't make me say it, mate. I know ye know what I'm 'referrin' to'." Englishmen were bred to be stern and rather unavailable with their own emotions, that much John knew. Hell, that’s how they won the war! But in this particular moment, John oddly felt the need to talk about the situation in order to move on from it and cursed him and Paul’s Liverpudlian blood for making it so difficult.</p>
<p>Paul squirmed, not enjoying the confrontation in the slightest. "What do ye want me to say?" He asked, splaying his hands out to his sides. John wasn't ready for that question and needed to lean back in the couch in order to ponder it. He finally shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose in between his closed eyes. "Jus' tell me off, aright! O-or sock me in the arm or somethin'! <em>Anythin’.</em>" He put his hand down to rest in his own lap as he watched Paul look away. "I'm just sick of this. Us actin' like strangers n' all."</p>
<p>Paul forced out a stale chuckle as he scratched at the back of his neck, withholding his own eyes from making contact with John's. "Ye want me to tell ye off?"</p>
<p>John inhaled gradually and closed his eyes as if meditating on the question for a moment. "I don’t bloody know, mate. I just want to move past this shite, okay? Please?"</p>
<p>Paul teethed on his inner lip once again, "What if <em>I</em> don't want to?"</p>
<p>"What'dye mean?"</p>
<p>Paul paused again, slowly moving his eyes down to study John's lips. The latter took note of this and held his breath, an eyebrow coming down to shroud his expression in confusion. He shifted cumbersomely in his seat and squinted at Paul.</p>
<p>"Yer not sayin'..."</p>
<p>"I liked it." Paul quickly confessed in an unexpected blaze of courage. John only stared back in disbelief, his mouth hanging open slightly. Paul’s breathing hitched at the loss of a reply from John and his eyes shot around his face in high hopes of finding evidence of mutual feelings from the lad.</p>
<p><em>‘Shit, George was wrong. FUCKJohndoesn’tlikemebackthiswholethingisabsolutleyFUCKEDimanidiotimanidiotim</em>-’</p>
<p>“Yer not messin’ with me, are ye?” The question from the older boy made Paul’s heart skip a beat as he earnestly brought a knee onto the couch to face John, suddenly appearing much more invested in the conversation. “M’ not messin’, aright? Are you?” Though Paul was confident in his answer, he couldn’t avoid the inevitable pink hue that engulfed his cheeks whenever he discussed, or even <em>thought</em> about him and John being anything more than friends.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>There was another few moments of dead air as the boys shared an intense and diligent gaze. Without breaking eye contact, John brought a hesitant hand to rest on his friend’s knee, inducing him to inhale sharply and blink repeatedly in response. He grinned lightly in awe at the adorable reaction from his friend and fought back the urge to snog him right then. John couldn’t believe what was happening. His mental bully suggested that this was a dream or a joke. Anything seemed more reasonable than Paul fucking McCartney liking that kiss. That awkward as hell, uncalled for, humiliating kiss.</p>
<p>Paul finally broke the mutually fixed stare to inspect the warm hand on his thigh, and slowly wrapped his fingers around John’s wrist. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he were told his pulse was at 200bpm as he lifted his focus back onto John, only to find him leaning into Paul slowly, closing his eyes. The younger teen remained wide-eyed as their lips met for the second time, though he was quickly whisked away in the moment as John’s tongue barely grazed his lower lip.</p>
<p>“Mm,” Paul hummed sweetly before John pulled their lips apart and kept their noses brushing side by side. They both broke out into giddy smiles as their sleepy-looking eyes met once again in exciting allurement.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello lovelies!! Sorry this chapter took so long, it’s much lengthier than the others and just took a LOT of editing but I think you will enjoy it;)</p>
<p>thank you again and always for the feedback and support &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the past couple of weeks, Claire had been seeing less and less of John. It got to the point where he barely acknowledged her at school and stopped calling her altogether. To her, she and the boy had had something special; something no other bloke at Quarrybank could offer her. She couldn't quite diagnose her own feelings and decide if her attraction was due to his charm, good looks, talent in bed, or a little bit of all three. She was captivated, to say the least.</p>
<p>This is why she couldn't help but absolutely despise the young, baby faced lad that she suspected, no, <em>knew</em> was drawing her and John apart. She couldn't fathom the reality of it all. She had John's undivided attention for a while until the night she had given him a lift home, only to find Paul waiting like a wartime bride at his doorstep.</p>
<p>Walking out of the doors of Quarrybank after her final class of the day, her face twisted in a spiteful scowl as she recalled the scene. John wasn't queer, that she was certain of. Then why was he dodging her? Why had he been spending all his free time at school to galavant about with Paul and that skinny friend of his? Nothing made sense.</p>
<p>As if her own thoughts had the power to beckon said boys into existence right before her eyes, she spotted Paul and his younger friend smoking and laughing amongst themselves with their backs against the wall of the building, merrily unaware of her gaze. She stood in place, watching from a distance as the skinny lad seemed to be telling a story to the other, that of which must have been pretty hilarious judging by Paul's faint cackles of amusement. '<em>Get a bloody room, you queers</em>.' She thought, unable to take her eyes off the pair.</p>
<p>Claire hadn't realized just how long she was studying the boys for until she noticed Paul had finished his ciggy. As he threw the butt onto the ground, he saluted to his friend, before turning around to make his way off school property and leaving him to smoke the rest of his dart in solitude. This new scene sent a slight spike of adrenaline shooting down her spine and before she could even think about it, she found herself marching over to the lad whose name she couldn't remember.</p>
<p>As she neared the boy, his eyes peeked up to meet hers, a thick eyebrow cocking slightly. He peered around as if to check if there was anyone in his general vicinity that she could be approaching instead of him, though he cleared his throat upon realizing he was completely alone.</p>
<p>"James's mate, yeah?" She asked sweetly once she was about a meter away from the boy. He blinked a couple of times and took another drag of his ciggy. He blew out his smoke slowly, studying her demeanour with skepticism. "Paul? Um...yeah? Why?"</p>
<p>The lass took her final steps, standing directly in front of the teen whose face was blanketed in an expression of puzzlement. He looked quite young.</p>
<p>"M' Claire. John's lass." She smiled, all the while taking note of the way his brows furred together to further the look of confusion at her last words. "That so? John Lennon?"</p>
<p>"The one and only." She chuckled, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. "I never caught your name."</p>
<p>"George."</p>
<p>"Right. Pleased to meet ye George. I've, um, got somewhat of an awkward question to ask you."</p>
<p>The boy straightened his stance and turned to have his upper arm pressed against the wall, now facing Claire completely. "Do ye? Go on then." He insisted, his eyebrows remaining knotted together in slight discomfort. Claire giggled shyly and looked to her feet. "So.. James, <em>Paul</em>, as you say..." She paused, glancing up at George who looked quite eager for her to continue.</p>
<p>"What about 'im?"</p>
<p>"He.. he's queer, isn't he?"</p>
<p>The question forced George's eyes to widen and lips to part ever so slightly, allowing his cigarette to comically hang downwards out of his mouth.</p>
<p>"Uh, no? Not at all, no, definitely not. Where'dye get that from anyways?"</p>
<p>"It's aright. John told me. He told me everything. Y'know, how he's been leading the poor soul on all this time? It's a sick gag, I know. Believe me when I say I never condoned it."</p>
<p>As Claire spoke, George took the cigarette out of his mouth and began rubbing an anxious hand over his mouth, a million thoughts screaming at him simultaneously. Was she being serious? Come to think of it, he <em>had</em> seen John with the lass quite a few times before. Why was she telling him this? He took a breath and finally decided to intervene. "Look, I don't know what you're talk-"</p>
<p>"But that's just John, y'know? I'm pretty sure he'll let off soon, I've been telling him to for weeks now. I just wanted to make sure Paul wasn't totally, y'know, in <em>love</em> or anything. The last thing I want is for John to seriously hurt him."</p>
<p>George sighed, eyes narrowing at the blonde. He threw his head to the side, examining the area for other students who may be listening in. He turned back to face Claire and took another drag of his dart before leaning in and lowering his voice. "Yer bein' serious, aren't ye?"</p>
<p>She fluttered her eyelashes and scoffed. "Why would I make that up? It's <em>humiliating</em>."</p>
<p>He nodded and darted his eyes around the bird's face, succumbing to the bold lie. Claire continued.</p>
<p>"So.. would you say he's in love or it's just a little, y'know, crush?"</p>
<p>"I-I dunno if m' bein' honest. I mean- he likes him, sure. <em>A lot</em>. But love?" He grimaced. "It's all too soon to tell."</p>
<p>Claire smiled again, though she was feeling a deep anger and resentment ravish her body and mind, taunting her to pull out her blonde locks and scream at the top of her lungs. '<em>I was right, damnit</em>!' She then nodded in understanding and brought a dainty finger to tap at her chin in thought. "I'll have to talk to John about it. This needs to stop."</p>
<p>George huffed and nodded. "Thanks for tellin' me, I suppose." He said gravely.</p>
<p>She extended a hand out to touch George's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm gonna ask you don't tell.. <em>Paul</em> about this, aright? That I talked to you?"</p>
<p>The boy peered down at the tiny pale hand that touched his uniform and then back at the lass. "What? Why?" He threw his cigarette onto the grass beneath them and chewed on the inside of his cheek. There was no reason he should keep the details of this strange interaction from Paul. Don't get him wrong, he didn't at all fancy the idea of being any sort of bearer of bad news- especially considering how happy Paul seemed to be lately- but he was his mate. He needed to.</p>
<p>"Just talk him out of it, perhaps. Does he really need to know John was just playing along to make fun of him to his other friends? That'd crush him, don't ye think?" She let her hand fall to her side once again.</p>
<p>George closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I- I don't know.. I wasn't overly supportive of their-" He paused, blinking a couple of time before looking away from Claire. "-...<em>fling</em> to begin with. What if he thinks I'm just tryin' to sabotage him or somethin'?"</p>
<p>Claire gritted her teeth and sighed, pondering her answer. "I believe that you'll be able to think of somethin', George." She finally said. "It's for the greater good."</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>John and Paul have been seeing each other just as frequently as they did before they gained the knowledge that their feelings for each other were mutual, though these new encounters contained much hotter and more obvious flirtatiousness, not to say that aspect of their relationship, though subtle, wasn't always there before. Though the gazes were longer, the blushes deeper, and the smiles and giggles giddier, the boys rarely made moves of intimacy on each other that was anything farther than holding hands or brief snogs. This may have been due to the lack of experience with being with another man on either end, or because it was in mutual agreement that they keep their 'thing' a secret.</p>
<p>That being said, however, John wasn't exactly ecstatic about moving so slow, though he wouldn't dare make an advancement that might make Paul uncomfortable. No, certainly not. The reward wasn't quite worth the risk, and besides, it certainly wasn't a bad thing to simply be in Paul's presence with the knowledge that he actually <em>liked</em> him (a concept that made John's knees feel as though they would give out just from thinking about). He was happy, really, and even more so that Jim and Mike were allegedly out of the house for the evening and Paul had invited him over.</p>
<p>It was physically impossible for John to ignore the possible suggestion in Paul's proposition. Did he want to shag? If not, why would he mention his family being away? But on the other hand, why would he go from being so shy about this new aspect of his life, to ringing John and basically begging him to bike to his house when everyone leaves around 3 o'clock with a hint of desperation in his voice? John thought back to the phone call that took place half an hour prior and bit his lip as the conversation burned deeper into his brain.</p>
<p>
  <em>"'Ello? Paul?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Come over. I need to see ye."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Oh?"</em>
</p>
<p>John held his breath as he laid on his single bed, remembering how Paul's voice dropped to a near whisper at his next words.</p>
<p>"<em>Everyone's gonna be outta the house, y'know. It'll just be us- if that's aright."</em></p>
<p>There was a few moments of silence on the other end before John spoke.</p>
<p>
  <em>"S' bloody marvellous, Macca."</em>
</p>
<p>He squinted at his alarm clock, before grunting in frustration and throwing his glasses on to read the time from his distance: 2:25 p.m. Though John had just gotten home from a bullshit day at school and was only beginning to unwind, he decided to get up and begin to get ready. He swiftly ripped off the grey uniform top that hugged his torso and replaced it with a faded red checkered button up. He combed his hair back tightly and put on his only bottle of cologne, immediately frowning at how he had most definitely just put on too much.</p>
<p><em>'Why am I so bloody nervous</em>?' He thought anxiously, rubbing his hands together as he continued to stare in the mirror in search for flaws in his appearance. John had a weird sensation bordering feeling like he was going on his first date, as well as losing his virginity for the first time. After several minutes of fixing up his hair and staring blankly into the eyes of his reflection, he was ready to leave for Paul's.</p>
<p>He managed to go the whole bike ride sweating, not as much from the endurance as it was from the bleakness of his near future. Upon his arrival, John hopped off his bike and let it fall lazily onto the younger boy's front lawn as he approached the door. He knocked quickly and immediately turned his back to the house while he waited, rubbing a hand over his chin and mouth. At the sound of the lock turning, John spun on his heel to face Paul, who leaned in the doorway, a massive grin playing on his lips.</p>
<p>"Three o'clock on the dot. Very punctual of you, Lennon, we should mark the calendar."</p>
<p>"Ye gonna let me in or what?"</p>
<p>Paul rolled his eyes and took a few steps back as he widened the opening of the doorway for John to enter, which he soon did. He rubbed his hands together again in a semi-anxious manner as he examined the room, scanning the area for any signs of Mike or Jim. As if reading his thoughts, Paul chuckled and closed the door behind him.</p>
<p>"They're off already. Ye just missed them."</p>
<p>John nodded in response. "Shame."</p>
<p>It was difficult for the boys to transition from being best mates to something deeper and more intimate. Paul wanted nothing more in that moment than to wrap his arms around John's waist and greet him with a kiss. Of course, he held back. It was all just too <em>new</em>, too fresh. John felt the same way, the nagging in his subconscious causing him to ignore his urges and simply carry on like they did before this all started.</p>
<p>"So ye wanna play? Or write?" John finally asked to break the silence, though he quickly felt foolish upon realizing he hadn't even brought his guitar. To his own relief, Paul twisted his lips and scrunched his nose, giving his head a shake of disagreement. "I was thinkin' we take a break from that for tonight, yeah?"</p>
<p>John hummed and leaned against the closed door. "Aright. What do you suggest?"</p>
<p>"Dunno. We could play a board game."</p>
<p>"You've got monopoly?"</p>
<p>"Of course."</p>
<p>"Beautiful."</p>
<p>Paul was acting as cool as he could, though he nibbled at his lip in breathless unease. He could smell John's pungent cologne while they walked together to retrieve the game, that of which felt almost too sweet in his nostrils and caused his lower stomach to stir. He also took note of John's appearance. Tonight he looked exceptionally put together; his freshly shaven face, his hair neatly pulled back on the sides and falling in beautiful curls over his forehead, as well as the red button up that Paul had wondered was the shirt he wore the day the pair had first met and began to grow their strong and complex relationship. He really did look amazing and Paul didn't even know how to tell him. He didn't know how to do anything. He was a blind navigator in this twisted relationship and he feared that he would do something rash that John would think to be too much too fast.</p>
<p>The two boys sat on Paul's living room rug, Paul on his stomach with his feet crossed in the air behind him, and John sitting criss-cross-applesauce on his arse. They were enjoying a tea Paul had prepared as they took turns rolling the dice and moving across the board.</p>
<p>John watched Paul through quick glances to see that he was not, in fact, fighting the urge to jump on him in a lust induced embrace. He looked like he was genuinely enjoying the game; strategizing and actually doing his best to beat him, while still having fun by laughing and joking about. It just seemed to John that the longing for physical contact was almost one sided. In that moment as he examined the nonchalant manner of the other boy, he began to fear that Paul wasn't quite attracted to him in that way.</p>
<p>"Ha! That's jail!" Paul shouted enthusiastically while moving John's piece to the dreaded corner square. "Yeah, yeah." John huffed, looking down at the younger teen. He waited as Paul rolled the dice, admiring how soft his features looked while in concentration, moving his game player seven spots forward, passing Go and collecting £200.</p>
<p>It was difficult to deny that their get togethers felt a lot like they did before they admitted their feelings for one another. John could barely wrap his head around the fact that Paul had confessed that he enjoyed their first kiss, let alone allow their lips to meet a handful of times after that. It almost seemed fake, considering he was previously certain that Paul had been a typical heterosexual Liverpudlian.</p>
<p>Same sex attraction wasn't only mocked and shamed by the general public, it was illegal. John wondered if it was embarrassment from Paul's end, or his strict catholic upbringing that made him hesitant to be intimate with John or even express his feelings with more confidence and clarity.</p>
<p>"Marylebone Station. I'll buy it." Paul announced smugly. "Now I have all the trains." He directed his attention up at John, who was resting his head glumly in his hands. "I'm kicking your arse, y'know." Paul added with a giggle. John cackled in response. "Game's far from over, son."</p>
<p>The turns kept alternating, Paul's economy growing increasingly powerful while the older boy only managed to scrape by. He huffed as he landed on yet another one of Paul's properties, having to pay a fee. Every time this happened, which was a lot, Paul couldn't help but giggle and clap like a schoolboy. John took note of this and, though finding it undeniably adorable, he managed to come off as bitter. "This is the problem with capitalism, y'see." He groaned.</p>
<p>"That so?"</p>
<p>"Sure. The wealthy are praised for being rich while the working class live only to deepen the pockets of the tycoons. It's bullocks, really."</p>
<p>Paul threw his head back in laughter. "Oh come off it, John. If the roles were reversed I'm sure you'd be saying capitalism was the way t'go." He raised an eyebrow at the other, who only shook his head fiercely. "No way, mate. It's sick."</p>
<p>Paul rolled his head to the side and threw the dice onto the game board. "Wouldn't you say the tycoons give back to society? I mean, I'm buildin' quite the utopia here- that of which you can enjoy.. for a small fee of course." He grabbed the ivory mug off the hardwood beneath him and sipped at his tea while moving his player to the square that corresponded with the number on the dice. John scoffed. "Right. How humbly generous of you."</p>
<p>Paul rolled his eyes and shifted in his position slightly to be more at John's eye level. He grabbed a few £100 bills out of his own stash and extended his hand out to John. "If you're gonna be so glum about it- here." He said with a sarcastic twang in his voice. John squinted his eyes, swatting at the paper money with the back of his hand. "M' not takin' charity." He chuckled at Paul's generosity (which he knew was actually less of a generous action and more of a subliminal message for him to quit being such a stick in the mud).</p>
<p>"C'mon. Isn't that what ye want? For the rich to give back to the poor?"</p>
<p>"If I take that money and I win, I won't feel very good about the victory, no?"</p>
<p>"Don't worry, mate. Ye still won't win. Take the money."</p>
<p>John grinned, becoming charmed by Paul's friendly banter. "No."</p>
<p>Paul pursed his lips, fighting back a smile. He got up on all fours and took a hesitant step forward with his hand, slightly closing the gap between the two boys. "Take it!" He waved the bills tauntingly in John's face. "I've got enough quid to burn, y'know."</p>
<p>The pompous implication in Paul's tone compelled John to twitch his lips into an aroused grin and mindlessly glide his tongue across the inside of his bottom lip. "And what if I don't?" He asked slyly after a few moments of silent contemplation.</p>
<p>The open ended question seemed to have an immediate effect on Paul, who began to blush in return. Still hovering on all fours over the game-board, he shot his eyes down at John's chest, then quickly back up to the boy's penetrating eyes. Before Paul could mentally acknowledge what he was about to do, he snaked his arm forward to tuck the money into the collar of John's checkered button-up, a devious smile on his face.</p>
<p>John peered down at the slightly crumpled paper poking out of his shirt and chuckled. Being with Paul in this new light made John feel like he was a 13 year old boy again, unable to interpret the actions of the people he fancied. For the past few years, John had grown to be a confident stud; being able to hit on and pick up women with ease. With Paul, things were different. He didn't quite know how to read his advancements and what he should make of them. It was as if he was walking on eggshells to avoid making him uncomfortable. As he peered back up to lock eyes with the other, however, there was a very seductive tone to his expression, causing John to hold his breath.</p>
<p>"You're a rich man now, Johnny." Paul cooed. The older teen's eyes darted around his face, soaking in every detail of his delicate appearance. "Sure am."</p>
<p>There was a moment of lingering silence to allow their eyes to burn into each other's. Paul's blush then deepened as he made the rash decision to dive forward, lips crashing desperately into John's with a force that caused him to widen his eyes and let out a muffled noise, as if in protest. Paul's knees now rested fully on top of the board, their game pieces abandoning their assigned squares and paper money falling together in a jumbled mess on the floor.</p>
<p>John quickly succumbed to the assault and fell back on his elbows, closing his eyes and widening his mouth to let him in.</p>
<p>Paul was now straddling John on the living room floor with his fingers tightly squeezed around the other boy; one hand holding the back of his neck and the other gripping the collar of his shirt, soft whimpers escaping his mouth as their tongues danced together in wet desperation. It was no secret that John was in silent bliss, being very taken aback by Paul's dominance. Not allowing their mouths to break apart, he opened his eyes slightly to study Paul's demeanour. The deep red that clouded his cheeks and the way his eyebrows were knotted together in desperate arousal was enough for John to grow a semi-erection and he raised his hips off the hardwood slightly to push into Paul's, which caused the younger boy to gasp quietly and pull away, if only a tad.</p>
<p>John quickly feared that he had crossed a line and he lowered his hips again, examining the other closely. To his own good fortune, however, John only met eyes with the bedroom ones of Paul, sparkling and half mast, as well as his slightly parted lips that were red and damp from snogging. Paul then grinned lopsidedly and leaned forward to plant warm, messy kisses on the boy's jawline and dipped his own hips down to press into John's. The sweet and unfamiliar sensation of cock-on-cock made John groan in pleasure, throwing his head back to give Paul easier access to his neck, all the while lightly smacking his noggin on the hardwood beneath him.</p>
<p>The younger boy's lips trailed back up to John's as he began to rotate his pelvis in rhythmic circular motions against the other's, his member growing almost painfully hard.</p>
<p>"Should- should we-" he pecked at John's lips in between his words. "-take this upstairs?"</p>
<p>John chuckled breathlessly against Paul's mouth. "What, and abandon our game?"</p>
<p>As Paul guided John up the wooden stairs that lead to his bedroom, he held his hand tenderly and felt the dampness of the boy's palms, blushing at the idea of John being nervous. His erection sat uncomfortably in his trousers and forced him to walk rather quickly to the top of the staircase and turn a sharp corner, glancing over at John as he did so. Seeing the other man already looking at him and grinning, Paul giggled and took back his hand to open his bedroom door and walk over to the side of his bed.</p>
<p>He couldn't keep himself from biting his lower lip as he looked up to meet John's intense gaze, emitting a quick and drastic butterfly sensation in his gut while he leaned forward and pressed their lips together once again. John placed his somewhat shaky hands on either side of Paul's torso and guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, where he placed his knee beside Paul's arse and slowly pushed him back onto the mattress, deepening the kiss.</p>
<p>Though they both went about their intimate actions in a shy and somewhat awkward manner, they were equally enjoying themselves immensely. The pure electricity in their touch and rhythmic conduct made waiting so long to experience it for the first time now feel oh so worth it.</p>
<p>Paul pulled his lips away from the pair's sloppy entanglement and inhaled sharply to catch his breathe. "Wait, John- wait a minute-" He huffed quietly, sitting up slightly on the bed. John immediately complied and moved back slightly to allow Paul to crawl off the bed and hop across his bedroom in quick strides. He flipped onto his back to watch the other boy in puzzlement, before allowing a touched smile to spread across his face.</p>
<p>"Good call, Macca." He said as Paul began to flip through his extensive vinyl collection, his foot tapping anxiously as he searched for the perfect one; one he had prepared for this moment. He spun his head around to flash a wholehearted grin at the boy who was lying patiently on the single bed then turned back around to continue picking through the pile of records. He finally picked one out and eagerly removed it from its sleeve and placed it on his turntable.</p>
<p>The crackling audio of the Louis Armstrong vinyl that Paul had stolen from his father's collection quickly filled the tiny room and John couldn't help but throw his head back to laugh. "Really? Soft jazz?" He chuckled, raising an eyebrow at Paul as he made his way back to the bed. Paul frowned. "Can it, you." He said, brushing his fingers down John's face. The elder boy only laughed again and grabbed Paul's wrist, pulling him down to lay atop of him.</p>
<p>Their lips crashed together again as the slow and sweet melodies played over their muffled moans. Paul brought his hands up to fumble with the top button of John's shirt, working his way down until it was completely open and the other boy helped him slip it off his own shoulders. Paul pulled away to marvel at John's exposed torso, his ears growing tremendously warm as he pulled off his own sweater only to throw it carelessly onto the floor beside the bed. He quickly found John's lips again and allowed their chests to collide and rub together with ease due to the thin layer of sweat that layered their upper bodies and gave the room a musty scent.</p>
<p>"Fuck, Paulie." John breathed in between kisses. Their hips rubbed together with delicious friction, though both boys were hesitant to remove each other’s trousers. After several moments of rolling around, half naked on the unmade sheets, Paul finally pulled away and stood over John on the bed, his knees digging into the plush mattress beneath him. His eyes pierced into John’s as he began undoing his own button, forcing the other to bite at his lip and watch Paul’s hands move with winded expectation. Without even realizing it, John began to undo his own and slipped his pants off and onto the end of the bed.</p>
<p>Both in only their boxers, they took a moment to stare at each other in adoration; their cheeks red and hair unkept. John’s eyes trailed down Paul’s body and stopped at his waist, barely noticing the head of his cock poking tauntingly out of the hem of his shorts. He licked at his lips. “You’re fucking beautiful, Paul, you know that?”</p>
<p>The other boy crawled towards him, a cheeky grin playing at his lips as he slowly climbed over John’s hips to straddle him and ran two hands down his chest. “Getting soft now, are we?”</p>
<p>John just chuckled and began sucking at the sensitive skin between his shoulder and neck, barely noticing when Paul reached forward to grab a small jar of vaseline off his wooden night table that he had conveniently placed prior to John’s arrival. John finally pulled away, noticing the item and smirked. “Good call again, mate.” He growled, pulling down his own boxers and letting his exposed member fall lazily onto his lower stomach. “Don’t be shy with it, now. Layer it up.”</p>
<p>Paul’s eyes darted down to John’s cock, the mere image forcing out his breathe and giving him a great deal of trouble finding it again. He pulled away from John slightly and licked at his lips, bringing his eyebrows to crease together in confusion. “Um, shouldn’t.. <em>I</em> be putting it on <em>mine</em>?”</p>
<p>John sat up, chuckling and lifting a thick eyebrow. "Why would you need it, only to... y'know.. get it up the arse?" This very scenario had played out quite similarly in John's head prior to the get together. He always fantasized about the two of them fucking and, for the past little while, let that be the very mental image he used when wacking off. In every make-believe scenario he could fathom, however, <em>he</em> was the one fucking <em>Paul</em>, not vice versa.</p>
<p>Paul frowned. The boys sat together motionless for a few seconds, determined eyes sizzling into those of the other. “No.” Paul finally said. “I can’t.” A pool of anxiety began to gather in his gut as he looked away, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘<em>Fuck. I’m ruining everything.</em>’ As much as he loved John, he didn’t think he could submit. It was silly really, considering he was definitely queer either way. There was just something about getting fucked that he wasn’t ready for and didn’t know if he ever would be.</p>
<p>John sat in silent thought, his lack of a response adding tremendously to Paul’s anxiety. The trumpet melodies of Louis Armstrong still played beautifully throughout the bedroom as John contemplated his next actions. He licked at his lips and peered up at the other, before reaching forward to tug downwards at his boxers, watching as Paul’s face glowed red from being vulnerable exposed. “You better put on a fuck ton, then, Macca.”</p>
<p>Paul looked down at his own naked member shyly and fought a relieved grin from ravishing his face as he unscrewed the cap and scooped out a generous amount of vaseline. John watched as Paul slowly spread the substance over his cock and felt his own twitch eagerly at the sight. He pulled off his own boxers fully and threw them onto the pile of disregarded clothing at the end of the bed as he waited for Paul’s readiness.</p>
<p>Once Paul was completely naked and lubed up, he looked down at John, who was still on his back, and placed a delicate hand on his thigh. “You ready?”</p>
<p>John nodded.</p>
<p>“Stop me if it gets t’be too much.”</p>
<p>“Get over yourself, Paulie.”</p>
<p>The younger boy rolled his eyes and crept closer onto the mattress to position himself perfectly over John, the head of his cock barely grazing John’s opening. He pushed his hips forward at an exceptionally slow speed, watching as John shut his eyes tightly and crinkled his nose in response. Paul exhaled dramatically and emitted a hallow laugh, unable to process how much pleasure such little movement could bring him. He retracted his hips at the same slow pace, studying the other boy’s demeanour. “You okay?” He questioned sweetly.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah.” John breathed. “M’ good.”</p>
<p>Paul nodded and thrusted himself forward again, this time allowing his cock to travel slightly further than the first movement.</p>
<p>“<em>Oh</em>!” John exclaimed sharply, widening his eyes at the burning sensation. Paul brought his hand down to brush John’s cheek. “M’ sorry!” He said quickly, retracting himself again. John only shook his head. “No, no, Macca. I felt somethin’. Do it again- slowly.”</p>
<p>Paul nodded again and repeated the action, the sweet tightness that engulfed his cock being pure torture at such a slow rhythm. He complied to John’s wishes, however, and pumped at an almost stationary pace. Every time he re-entered John, he let himself move in only a tad further until he was completely engulfed. “You good? Permission to pick up the pace?” Paul questioned desperately into John’s ear. The older boy nodded. “Oh thank God.” Paul hummed, bringing his hips back and forward again slightly faster.</p>
<p>John lay motionless on his back, eyes tight and mouth agape as he did his best to adjust to Paul’s prick inside of him. Every few motions, he felt a quick and overwhelming jolt of pleasure strangely ring through his lower stomach and cock and was desperate for more. He began bringing his hips up in rhythm with Paul pushing himself forward, in order to deepen the distance that he traveled inside.</p>
<p>“Je-<em>sus</em>!” He exclaimed louder than anticipated and arched his back violently. “Faster, Paulie.”</p>
<p>Paul silently thanked the Gods and began to move his hips quicker as he dove down to make out with John’s neck once again. He grunted and breathed against his skin and, upon discovering his own orgasm was right around the corner, brought a hand down to slowly stroke John’s member. The older boy held back a scream of lustful contentment as Paul now pumped into him at a great speed, pre-cum beginning to pool deep in his arse.</p>
<p>“I-I’m there John- I’m-” Without warning, he made the decision to pull himself out of John, receiving a startled and almost angered expression from the boy beneath him. “Hey, Paul! What are ye-”</p>
<p>The words were cut off quickly as Paul pressed his near-bursting cock onto that of John’s and pumped them together with his hand. The boys stared at each other, both at a great loss for words as their climaxes ravaged their bodies in near unison, before a winded Paul collapsed onto John and melded their cum together on their quickly rising and falling bellies.</p>
<p>There was a great deal of huffing and panting as the boys laid there together for a few moments of shocked silence.</p>
<p>“I hate to say it, y’know, but the jazz turned out to be a great call.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>